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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year ago

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who could stay? (you could stay.) (eddie munson x reader)

summary: you're convinced that being loved comes with a cost. he finds a way to prove you wrong. (wc: 9.7k+)

order up! i've got one ash's special for anonymous. ♡

Keep going, keep going, keep going.

Agree to run that errand for someone. Offer a shoulder to cry on for that person. Fix that problem for this friend. Keep going, keep offering, keep becoming indispensable.

You couldn’t pinpoint the exact age you’d figured out the formula. You can never know for sure if the day was sunny or if it were rainy, if it were a calm December morning or a buzzing July night, but those details aren’t very important. The only important detail is that you had finally cracked the code at some point – you had finally figured out the solution to feeling unlovable. And that was that, truthfully, there wasn’t a solution. Once you were destined to feel this way, to feel so sour at your core, there is no easy way to rid yourself of that rotten pit. It would always be there – always churning, always burning, always yearning. Yearning to be loved, yearning to feel those waves of warmth cascading over your brain and down your spine, the ones others had always described to you but you’d just never… experienced. Never became familiar with.

It felt like everyone was playing an over-elaborate prank on you. They’d all conspired against you, invented a false feeling in which someone claims to feel loved, only to sit back and watch as you fumbled to find it. They’d laughed as you dug through a graveyard of relationships, caked your fingernails with dirt as you sobbed and would continue to claw deeper, trying to find just one set of bones that might hold that warmth for you.

The only solution to that detrimental feeling of being unlovable, was to feel needed.

You needed to feel so necessary, so essential, to everyone around you at all times. It never mattered how much of you it took. You’d give away every piece of yourself a million times over just to feel wanted at some capacity, even if that capacity were one you’d forced upon the other person. You didn’t care if you’d built the glass cages of theirs – you just cared that they kept you around to wipe away any smudges that appeared.

Being wanted wasn’t quite the same as being loved. And if you thought about that for too long or too often, you might just break irrevocably.

“I just don’t understand him,” Nancy sighs from the head of your bed, reclining against a wall of pillows you’d lined your headboard with. Two of which were body pillows. Long tubes of fluff to try and fill lonely spaces, you suppose, “Why didn’t he just tell me he didn’t want to go to the same college? Why… Why do I feel like I am forcing him to be with me?”

Because you are. Just like I force you all to need me.

“I don’t know, Nance.”

That bland, bitter, half-thought out answer lingers on your tongue, almost burns your throat with the whisper of say more, say something useful, say something comforting. It’s the whisper of those four words not being enough. It’s the whisper of that threat that those four words could be the beginning of the end, the thing that makes Nancy realize she doesn’t need you.

After all, what use is a friend that can’t give good advice, or be supportive during relationship rants?

You open your mouth to add on something sweeter, something to coat the conversation like honey and smooth out the lines forming on Nancy’s forehead, but she beats you to it, “I’m sorry, I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

Yes. “It’s fine,” at least that wasn’t a lie – you’d dug this specific grave, had rooted down tooth and nail only to find another empty coffin of a friendship curtained with want instead of love. You’d all but asked for this, “What he did really was shitty. It’s not fair to you.”

The words are almost robotic, telling Nancy Wheeler what she wants to hear rather than what she needs to hear. You don’t always do that, you do make a point of investing in the truth from time to time to truly secure your position as someone who is genuinely needed in her life, but the headache nagging at your temples tells you it’s not worth the fight tonight. You’re tired, you’re agitated, and you really just want to get Nancy to the point of contentment in her rambling so that you can send her on her way.

God, you’re an awful friend.

It turns you quiet, a ricocheting thought that bruises your inner skull the rest of the time Nancy sits on your bed. The guilt eats you alive for that moment of irritation the rest of the night. Even after Nancy goes home, even after you’ve brushed your teeth and you’ve tucked yourself into bed. The guilt gnaws on the edges of that emptiness inside of you, that ever-present black hole that already existed, and says this is why you cannot be loved.

Maybe the pity party for feeling like a bad friend is what makes you a bad friend.

And maybe if you were a better friend, you would be loved instead of wanted for once.

It’s all part of a cycle, never-ending and treacherous. It’s always been this way. You make promises to your friends and rip yourself to shreds before remolding yourself into whatever they need; giving rides to the younger kids within your circle to the pool all summer which evolved into taking turns with Steve as to who would pick them all up after their D&D club ran late every Friday night, always lending a listening ear to Nancy once Johnathan moved away and she’d had to witness her relationship and her love vanishing in real time, always being the one person who will listen to Robin ramble for hours about her sudden interests. None of it was born of ill-intent, but when you’d go home lonesome at the end of the night, you could see it all for what it was.

You were trying to fill a void. A hollow rot, a black hole. And it was only working half the time.

Half the time, until he came along.

And make no mistake, his arrival was as bloody as anyone who had previously entered your life. For a while there, you believed his headstone was at the end of the line already, sanctioned away in this graveyard of the ability to be loved. He came crashing into your life on a random Friday night, and you had sworn you could already see the end as it began, but you had been wrong.

“So, you’re the infamous babysitter.”

His voice caught you off guard. You’d been sitting in your car with your windows down, enjoying the reprieve of a cooling autumn evening as you waited for the boys to finish up with their D&D club. With your head buried in the latest sci-fi novel that Dustin had recommended and would no doubt be grilling you on once he got in the car, you hadn’t even heard the club exit the school.

“Nope,” you fought a smile as you glanced up from the pages to see an older guy standing there, closer to yours and Steve’s age than the kids. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that this was the famous Eddie all the boys would ramble on about for hours on end, “Harrington’s the babysitter. I’m just the taxi driver.”

There was something particularly pretty in the way he threw his head back with laughter at your words. Curls that messily fell just beyond his shoulders, full lips disappearing as his teeth peeked through and shined beneath the parking lot’s lamp posts. His denim vest looked purposefully distressed with a mirage of patches and pins, and he was wearing a leather jacket beneath it, even if it wasn’t quite cold enough for it yet outside. He was cute – and watching him laugh because of you sparked something irreversible inside of you.

“C’mon now,” he sighed as his cackles quieted, “Give yourself more credit than that. At least call yourself something fancy, like ‘chauffeur’.”

“Ah, but ‘taxi driver’ insinuates that I charge them,” you don’t miss a beat, and your quick wit has him chuckling again.

You caught sight of his eyes, corners creased with joy – brown. They were deep, russet, tantalizing brown. Almost indiscernible from his pupil in the dark.

“I’m Eddie, by the way.”

You took his hand that he shoved through your open window with ease, and felt an immediate shiver run down your spine. Not quite from the cold, but not quite warm. You saw the first flash of his grave, and you knew you’d be digging your greedy hands into it soon enough.

As you gave him your name in return, you knew you wouldn’t be leaving well enough alone.

You had been half right that night. You wouldn’t be leaving well enough alone, you would be seeking out the impossible from Eddie – but so would he.

It quickly became apparent that Eddie was a pest. Someone who weaseled his way into the lives of others, who made his presence felt and never forgotten.

You’d started with the same slow dance as you did with every new person, a hesitant dipping of your toes into their waters, unsure if your presence in their life would only cause more trouble than you’re worth, when you quickly discovered that nothing could ever be hesitant or slow with Eddie Munson. He’s the one constantly reaching out to you. Driving the kids home now takes double the time it used to, long conversations being had with him that has the kids dragging you away, practically begging to just be taken home. The day he’d asked for your number, you couldn’t tell which one of you burned brighter red. And the moment he had your number in his clutches? Forget about it. You never heard the end of Eddie Munson, and you never really wanted to.

Unlike your friends you already had and loved deeply, Eddie was observant.

It’s within the first month of knowing you that he had picked up on your insecurities. Maybe he hadn’t directly seen that gaping hole in your chest yet, but he noticed your habit of running yourself dry to see others thrive.

The need to be needed. He picked up on it quickly.

“What about Sunday?” Eddie’s voice traveled over the line as you laid on your stomach, stretched out across your bed for a few moments of rest before you had to get up and take the cookies you’d baked for Steve and Robin into Family Video, just like you had promised, “I’m free then if I finish all my fuckin’ homework on Saturday night.”

Surprisingly, that phone call with Eddie hadn’t been something expected or planned. It had been impulsive; in a rare moment of peace, you found yourself craving to hear his voice. Somehow, the two of you had ended up trying to figure out a free day to properly hang out. Eddie wanted to go to Benny’s for milkshakes, and you wouldn’t turn down the free fries he also promised.

“I can’t,” you paused just to hear his predictably dramatic sigh, grinning as you continued to explain, “I’m taking Max to the skatepark that day.”

“And it’s going to take all day?”

“It could!”

“There’s absolutely no way.”

“You clearly haven’t seen that girl skate.”

The conversation continued, light-hearted enough with plentiful jokes made. Something about talking with Eddie made your heart lighter, the usual unbearable and contradictory weight of emptiness no longer on your mind as you listened to him ramble about something that had happened in one of his classes – a teacher tried to embarrass him when he caught Eddie doodling for a D&D campaign by asking him a question, not expecting him to know the answer. Eddie had, of course, leaving the teacher baffled with a smirk.

It’s all about my charm, sweetheart, he responded when you asked how he hadn’t earned a detention from that.

Only towards the end of the call, when the conversation finally lulled and the two of you found yourselves settled into a comfortable silence, did Eddie finally circle back to the beginning of your conversation.

“You know,” he started, “When I first met you, I never took you to be someone so…”

“Amazing? Wonderful? Funny?” you jokingly attempted to finish his sentence.

“Busy.”

Oh. You hadn’t expected that one.

“Busy?” you repeated back to him, “I’m not that busy.”

Your mind immediately started racing with thoughts of what he had meant. Was he feeling neglected? Maybe you should have canceled on Max on Sunday, agreed to Benny’s with him instead. No, you couldn’t bear Max’s disappointment. Maybe you could tell Max you had a time constraint, even though you knew she hated those when it came to her skating days. Was there any other plans you could abandon? Anyone else you could bear to let down for the sake of not leaving Eddie high and dry? No, no – all your other weekend plans involved going to the movies with Robin, helping Steve look into colleges finally, taking the boys to the Starcourt mall to shop for supplies to make figurines for their newest campaign. The room was suddenly getting smaller, your chest constricting, your head spinning. You couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing any of those people, no, but what about Eddie? Maybe he was right in feeling neglected, maybe you deserved whatever guilt was to come from whatever his next words would be. He was your friend, you were supposed to make time for h-

“Sweetheart,” he scoffed over the line, and you swore you heart stopped right then and there, “You’re the highest thing in demand since Cabbage Patch Kids last Christmas – and trust me, I should know how in demand those fuckers were. I worked seasonally at the mall, remember?”

Your breath caught. He was feeling neglected. You weakly began your apology as tears were already filling your eyes, that panic turning over itself in your gut, “I’m-”

“And it’s not a bad thing, don’t get me wrong,” It’s clear your voice had been too soft, too weak, for him to hear you, “Just means I’ve gotta fight harder to be worth your time, am I right?”

You had to clear your throat, but it did nothing to subsidize that anxiety that rattled your bones. It’s blatantly evident as your voice shook with a second attempt at an apology, “I’m sorry, Eddie. I didn’t mean- I can… I’ll… Just tell me when for Benny’s. I can make it work, I swear-”

“Woah, woah, woah.”

He had to have heard the tears that had escaped down your cheeks. The shake of your breath as you’d stuttered over your words, grasping for a solution.

“You don’t need to apologize for that,” his voice was soothing and soft, the most gentle it had been the entire night. You pinched your eyes shut and just tried to imagine those stupid, big doe eyes, those ungodly messy curls (you’d started to tease him about if he ever even brushed or combed them). The panic remained, but Eddie’s voice started to give it a run for its money, “I was just playing around. You know that, right?” he paused to give you room to answer, but your throat was still tightly squeezed by overwhelming emotion, overwhelming fear of having scorned Eddie, “You could only have enough time in your schedule to see me once a year, and I’d still be your friend. We could only have these random phone calls, even if they were never longer than a minute, and you’d still be worth it. You know that, right?” Another pause, another wave of silence from your end, “Sweetheart, you don’t owe me your time. And I don’t need monopoly over it for us to be okay.”

Each word made the panic settle. You weren’t sure how he did it. You weren’t sure how mortified you should be that he had only been in your life for a month at most, and had just overheard you at your most vulnerable.

All you were sure of was that you believed him.

“Okay,” you croaked, finally feeling that ring of fear loosen, vocal chords finally functioning once more.

“Okay,” Eddie repeated back in that same gentle, soothing, soft tone.

You weren’t disappointing him. You weren’t making him feel neglected. He still found use for you, he still wanted you around – he still needed your friendship. That had to be enough.

It was quiet over the line for a few moments.

It has to be enough, you reminded yourself.

“Say,” you finally said, voice back to normal strength and the tears having dried themselves up for the most part. Your heart had almost returned to normal rhythm, “How does Benny’s sound tonight?”

“Tonight?” he chimed back, sounding as excited as a little kid the morning of a cherished holiday, something like Christmas.

A shiver ran down your spine. It’s not from the cold, and you tell yourself it’s not quite warmth – it can’t be warmth.

“Tonight,” you confirmed, “With a detour by Family Video, if you don’t mind. I’ve got a special delivery of cookies to fulfill.”

“What kind?”

“Excuse me?”

You were grinning - God, you were a pathetic fool, grinning and clutching onto that phone like a lifeline. Like if you let go of it, you’d lose his voice, and if you lost his voice, that would be the end of the world.

“What kind of cookies?”

“Chocolate chip.”

He hummed, not answering right away as if he were deliberating this information. When he finally spoke again, another shiver wrapped around your spine, spinning down, down down. Waves of what you almost believed were warmth. “Okay. I suppose I can be your taxi driver, for a price.”

“What’s your price?”

“One cookie.”

“Deal.”

It had to be enough, because you were still clutching that telephone tightly to your cheek, long after the phone call ended with Eddie’s promise of being at your house soon enough. It had to be enough, because after that night, it became clear; the world would not end with the loss of just Eddie’s voice from your life, but the loss of Eddie, period. It was the first night of many in which you played a very, very dangerous game.

Even with Nancy gone, you felt restless. You couldn’t help but linger just a little longer in all that self-pity, still replaying the night and all you could have done differently.

Had she caught on with how out of it you had been? Had she seen through your act and immediately assumed the worst – assumed you weren’t worth keeping around?

The thoughts might be an overreaction.

You were definitely overreacting.

You didn’t really care that you were overreacting, though, because you really couldn’t control it. It was just another dark path you couldn’t stop your mind from traveling down. It was endless, and it was lonesome, and… and it was just normal. What should be devolving into a panic attack can only settle like an emptiness deep within your chest; you’ve been staring at the blank wall of your living room for so long without blinking, your eyes have gone dry.

A pattern. That’s what the therapist said. You had a pattern for overthinking these interactions, for projecting feelings onto others that didn’t exist. You think all your friends hate you, you think that a stranger found your smile to be more of a grimace, you think your mom hasn’t called in months because she recognizes you as a failure finally. But none of it is actually what those people think. It’s like a mirror – you look into the eyes of others, and you see all your own insecurities reflected back.

She’d asked you to work on it. To take a step back and just breathe, just remind yourself of that, whenever this happens. You’d decide whether you’d mention this minor slip up later. For now, you were going to wallow. You were going to spiral with just you, this damn blank wall, and maybe even the bottle of wine in the fridge.

Yes, your mind was made up, and you force yourself to stand from the couch and wander into the kitchen, eyes still dry and chest still caving in on itself as you open the fridge.

That’s as far as you get. Your fridge is wide open, the bright luminescent light flooding your kitchen floor in time with the trickling chill that sneaks up on your warm cheeks and already numb toes, when you spot it.

A box of takeout. It’s old enough now you could throw it out, you had known the moment he’d taken the last of his meal to-go that he wouldn’t finish it. Teased him about it, even. But he was stubborn and you weren’t capable of turning down the opportunity to let another piece of him, another flash of evidence of his place in your life, occupy this apartment. So there it sat, a half-eaten burger he hadn’t revisited.

But he had revisited the apartment – revisited you. He’d been here every night this week, and you’d practically had to shove him out on the street to get him to leave this morning to get to work on time.

The edges of that emptiness that weighs down your insides blur, already lightening microscopically as you slam shut the fridge and forgo the wine completely to grab the phone instead.

“You don’t have to always take care of everyone, you know,” he murmured as he joined you in the kitchen to retrieve popcorn for the gang, everyone gathered in the living room for a movie night.

“Pardon?” you asked, hardly glancing over your shoulder as you punched in the designated time for the microwave to turn the kernels into an easy, mouth-watering snack of butter and crunch.

“You always take care of everyone. You don’t have to.”

His words rang clearer that time, loud enough to have stopped you in your tracks. You paused mid-reach, the cabinet for the Harrington’s bowls wide open and shelves nearly too tall for you.

“I-” you weren’t sure exactly what to say, “What do you mean?”

His brows scrunched, eyes having narrowed in the slightest in your direction, “Please don’t play dumb right now.”

“I’m not playing dumb. I’m trying to get popcorn for our movie night,” you waved your hand towards the shelves lined with bowls for emphasis on your point, “That’s not really taking care of everyone – it was just being polite. Steve’s hosting, it’s the least I can do.”

“The least you can do? The least you can do is actually just sit with friends, enjoy the movie,” the crease between his brow deepened, eyeing you with an unfamiliar concern. You shifted beneath the weight of his gaze.

You don’t know what to say. Except, “It’s not that serious.”

He scoffed, and you nearly flinched from it. Fear threatened to bubble up – he’s upset, he’s getting irritated at you. He’s getting tired of you.

You waited for him to say something more as the buzz of the microwave filled the tense space, but he remained silent. Brooding.

“What?” your voice shook, your entire being torn between succumbing to all that fear and anxiety in upsetting him further and that voice in the back of your mind that urged you to push him, to hear what he really thought. “I know you have something more to say.”

“In the six months I’ve known you, you haven’t taken a single break for yourself.”

He met your push, stood his ground and didn’t let it put any distance between you two. It felt like a goddamn revelation, right there in the Harrington kitchen.

“I take plenty of breaks, Eddie,” you tried to laugh off, “I do spend time away from you all, hard as that may be to belie-”

“Hardly,” he cut you off as sharply as the first resonating pop that echoed from the microwave.

“What’s your point? I just like being around you guys. Like I said, it’s not that serious.”

This was the part where the distance would happen. You kept pushing, took the inch he’d given you to bite back and ran with it. Normally, you avoided conflict with any of your friends vehemently. Always afraid, always assuming the relationships to be so fragile and so delicate. You would take such care in never giving them a reason to hate you that you’d never taken to a battleground before.

But there had been a look in Eddie’s eyes that night. A shine that, breaking through all the worry for you, whispered, fight with me. Stand your ground with me. I’ll still call you tomorrow, no matter what words we exchange tonight.

A safety net had formed that you’d never even noticed. That delicacy wasn’t needed here. You could pick up the sword, there in that kitchen, and it wouldn’t turn Eddie to smoke and shadows.

“My point is…” he paused, he swallowed hard, he exhibited the delicacy that was usually expected from you, “You can like being around us. But you should put yourself first. At least once. At least on movie night.”

“How is me making popcorn not putting myself first?” you got the question out, you took a deep breath, ready to go on some sort of defensive tirade for your habit you were well aware of.

He beat you to it, “Every day last week, you only got three hours of sleep, at most, before your shifts. You gave up sleep to hang out with us all way too late, refused to throw in the towel and go home before anyone else.”

“I could have napped-”

“You didn’t nap,” he stressed, taking a step closer to you. The popping of the snack turning in the microwave was erratic, mere seconds left on the timer. Static noise to the conversation at hand, “I know you didn’t fucking nap after your shifts because you were immediately running errands for everyone else, or hanging out again. You offered to give Robin a ride to work every single day, and her shifts start… what, an hour after yours ended? And then you had to give her rides home, right? But in those hours she was at work, you were helping Dustin with an essay for school – that little fucker told me all about it. You were awake when Johnathan called you and we were all stoned off our asses, went and got us food we didn’t need but still wanted. We didn’t even expect you to pick up, you know? I told them, I swore to them, you wouldn’t pick up. You had a morning shift. You were scheduled literal hours from when we called you. But you picked up. You fucking picked up, and you went and got the fucking food for us fucking idiots.”

Your brain completely malfunctioned. You couldn’t comprehend how he was saying all of these things that should be good things, things that proved you were needed and you were reliable, but with such venom in his tone.

Anger had sparked within you as you pictured how giddy Dustin had been over the B he’d earned on his essay, that sincere appreciation on Robin’s face every time she left your car last week, the dopey grin that Argyle had worn when you’d arrived with their food order in your pajamas. All previously things to fuel you, filling that aching hole inside of you, now being tarnished because he was concerned.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you seethed at him, “Would you prefer I hadn’t been awake? Would you prefer I let Dustin just… get a fucking F on that essay? Or Robin walks to work?”

“Yes!”

You were both shocked at the sudden volume in your voices. The quickness in his reply. The quiver in your lip.

“Yes,” he breathed out, quieter this time, “I would prefer those things if it meant you were taking care of yourself. The word ‘no’ should be in your vocabulary, sweetheart. I… The world doesn’t end just because you don’t constantly make yourself available.”

But you all needing me might.

“Just… just…” your breaths came out in huffs, eyes downcast and unwilling to meet Eddie’s stare. A final push, and it came out more fragile than you’d ever intended, “Just mind your business, Eddie.”

He opened his mouth to say more, but the microwave started to go off, signaling what you saw as the end of the conversation – the fight. You’d raised your voice at him, you’d swung that sword in his direction, and he hadn’t vanished. His friendship – he – wasn’t as breakable as you’d thought.

You spun on your heel, you took the popcorn out and divided it into bowls for the group, busying your hands in any way possible. All the while, he never left the kitchen. He stood just feet away from you and let you do what needed to be done, and only stopped you as you turned to exit the kitchen with the snacks acquired.

His hand caught onto your elbow, “You have bags.”

“Excuse me?”

“You have bags under your eyes,” he elaborated. He no longer looked frustrated, but defeated, a morose distress pinching the edges of his feature.

“Jesus,” you were now scoffing, adjusting your grip on those bowls, “You really know how to compliment a girl, don’t you?”

“They’ve been there for months,” his grip refused to loosen, thumb trailing over the crease in your arm, “Please don’t run yourself into the ground.”

You gave him a cold shoulder as you left him behind to rejoin your friends, unable to shake his consternation. It was so genuine, it terrified you. It made your insides churn, it turned your anxious attachment to dust.

It made a shiver of warmth travel down your spine.

The empty space beside you on the couch only remained for seconds after you’d passed around the bowls, keeping one for yourself. He was back there, back at your side, as if the two of you hadn’t just exited a battle ground. As if a stand-off hadn’t just occurred, as if it all hadn’t ended in a draw.

He looked at you with those eyes.

Fight with me. Stand your ground with me. Don’t walk away from me. I will still call tomorrow.

He did more than call that night. As the movie started, he didn’t so much as flinch when your head fell to his shoulder in exhaustion. He only tucked an arm around your shoulders, only shifted you to be more comfortable as you used him as a personal pillow. He glared at everyone in warning not to grill you on the plot of the movie when you’d awoke mildly disappointed, he’d let you sleep on the drive home. He never once brought the fight back up.

And he still called the next day.

After your shift, he was the first voice you heard after dragging your feet into your apartment. A brief apology was exchanged before it was back to business as usual between you two. And somewhere between his rambles, you fell asleep with your phone balanced half-haphazardly between your cheek and shoulder. You could only dream of the grin he wore when he’d hear your soft snores over the line, quieting down immediately to let you rest. He never hung up – he was content to sit on a hushed line if only for the assuredness that you were finally resting.

The warmth no longer traveled down your spine, instead curling up timidly near that hole inside of you. You let it.

“Munson residence!”

That warmth that had found home in your chest still remains to this day, rousing at Eddie’s voice over the line. It’s nearly enough to make you cry – the relief that floods you just by the sound of him and his endless chipper. His optimism that always seems to exist, even in contrast with those harsh edges he tries to portray.

“Eddie,” you whisper, as if you’re not the only one in your apartment, “Can you… Are you free?”

Even after a year, you still sometimes felt guilt, asking so much of him. Asking so much, and giving so little in return.

But you weren’t the one who set that standard. Eddie had. Ferociously, fiercely, stubbornly. The insistence that you simply being was enough for him.

“For you, sweetness?” he chuckles lowly. He recognizes your voice immediately; you never have to say it’s you calling. You could have shrugged it off as Caller ID, but you knew the Munson’s phone didn’t have that. No, he recognized you by voice only. He’d once joked that only you would one day be able to rouse him from the dead, based on the ‘sweet melody alone’. Recognition in death – you had managed to burrow your way so deeply into his life, you’d earned recognition in death. “Always. What’s up?”

You could have just kept him on the phone. Had one of your infamous conversations about everything and nothing. Sat on the cold tiles of your kitchen and smiled like a child as you listened to him rant. But the cold chill of your lonesome apartment was becoming suffocating, and you remembered that take out in the fridge and the way one of his socks had ended up in your laundry last week. You remembered how you started keeping his favorite brand of beer in your fridge and how one of your pillows started to permanently smell like his aftershave.

He had a toothbrush in your bathroom. He had a key to your apartment. He had a space, here, in this lonesome apartment. And all you had to do was beckon to him, and he would come to fill it. Always.

“Can you come over?”

You don’t even have to explain yourself. He complies readily, whispers out a soft yes in the voice you’d also recognize even in death, and promises to be there within ten minutes.

He makes it within eight.

And you’re still leaning on your kitchen counter, your head still swimming dangerously with all the different ways you’d let down Nancy. Once upon a time, you might have worried about inviting him over, worried that your anxieties and your short-comings might bleed into your relationship with him. In the beginning, it had been simple enough. You kept him at an arm’s length away the moment you realized you couldn’t make yourself needed to him, not out of selfishness but out of fear. Fear, because if he didn’t need you, why would he stick around?

Because without need, if you did the wrong thing, there was no necessary thread tying them to you. Because without need, there was no chance for the day that you might find love in your grave robbings, and you couldn’t handle the thought of someone like Eddie Munson deciding you weren’t worth his time.

It hadn’t occurred to you for a very long time that maybe, possibly, you’d been going around the concept of love with a very wrong mindset.

Your safe place. That’s what the back of the van had become over these sticky summer nights – your safest refuge.

It was always the same scene; Eddie on his back beside you, lazily nursing a joint, while you sat up reading passages of the latest book you two had embarked on together. Sometimes it was poetry, sometimes it was fantasy, and sometimes, it was just a reread. That night, it was a reread. The Hobbit.

“‘I don’t see that this will help us much,’ said Thorin disappointedly after a glance. ‘I remember the mountain well-’” you recited off of the page, when Eddie suddenly sat up abruptly and snatched the book from you.

“No, no, no!” he wagged his finger at you after he discarded his joint into the ashtray you’d made him start keeping in the fan, “Sweetheart, you’re doing the voices all wrong.”

You rolled your eyes at him, reaching to take the book back, “Not all of us have a Dungeon Master voice to whip out, Munson. Give it back.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Do I need to say please? I’ll say please.”

It was best like this. Just the two of you, away from everyone else. Some nights, the two of you hadn’t even needed a book to bond over. You’d just gaze at stars, or indulge in whatever weed he’d brought along with him. He never pressured you, though – if you shook your head at his offer of the joint, that was that. He seemed to apply that to most aspects of your friendship this last year.

You never had to prove anything to him. He saw your worth as if it were glaringly obvious, as if it were as simple of a concept as breathing. No extra effort needed from your end.

Just by being, you had managed to become something important to him. He needed you, if only because you were you.

“The puppy dog eyes aren’t gonna work on me,” he snorted, shifting so that his shoulder pressed against your own. A warmth spreads from the point of contact. “Let the master show you how it’s done.”

You tried to not let it show, but your grin was radiant. He was the master at those ridiculous voices, at theatrics and at bringing the story to life. You were transported from the shore of Lover’s Lake, in the back of that stuffy yet comforting van, to meadows of soft grass and hobbit holes of comfort. To a place where all the threats were mythical and all the expectations of you were released.

You’d spent the week helping Steve finish up his college plans. His parents had tried to pressure him into picking his top three universities, but the moment he had confided in you that he might prefer a community college to begin, you’d held his hand as you guided him through the process. A rewarding process, have no doubt, but it had left you numb and reeling. Sharing someone else’s stress, shouldering their burdens – it had been a bit much.

You needed this. You needed Eddie’s ridiculous voices and the sharp press of his shoulder against your temple.

“Falling asleep on me already?” he teased when he’d noticed how quiet you had gone.

“Never,” you lied through a yawn that quickly exposed you.

“Liar,” he huffed. You didn’t even need to glance up to confirm the smile you knew he wore. “We can head back home, if you need. I know it’s getting late-”

“No,” you quickly sat up, effectively making yourself dizzy, “No, I- It’s fine. I’m awake. I swear.”

“It’s okay that you were falling asleep,” he was quick to reach out, to tug you back down to his side, wrapping his arm around you to press you even closer than before, “I just don’t want to keep Cinderella out past Midnight.”

“It’s barely ten.”

“Nothing gets past you, Sherlock,” he scowled as you pressed your grin against his t-shirt clad shoulder, “I’m serious, though. Do I need to take you home?”

“No, Eddie. I’m good.”

“Swear it? Swear you don’t have an early shift, or some… some obligation?”

“No shifts, no obligations.”

“And if I just kidnap you for the weekend? Am I going to have an angry mob at my doorstep, demanding your service?”

You smiled wider at the thought. The idea of him hiding you away, letting you live in this reprieve for the entire weekend. It was a nice thought, “I certainly wouldn’t complain.”

And so the two of you sat there like that for an hour more. Eddie coming up with ridiculous tones for the various characters, you slipping in and out of consciousness as his warmth stayed wrapped around him. You don’t even notice when the warmth he’d planted in you finally covers up that hole inside of you, not even missing the absence of that emptiness until Eddie went quiet.

In the silence, you noticed it.

The gash you’d grown accustomed to, the hole that had become an extra limb for you. Vanished. Gone. Disappeared without a trace.

It was a sudden and terrifying realization. Everything in you urged you to jump up, to scramble around you to find the darkness again, like a comfort blanket you couldn’t stand to lose. You went against the instinct, though, and rose slowly from Eddie’s hold.

In lieu of scrambling, you peered at Eddie curiously. “Hey, Eds. Can I ask you something?”

He nodded sleepily, almost as drowsy as you. You’re shocked when he shifts and instead of pulling you back to him, he opted to lay his head in your lap.

That hole was still gone. The weight of his head on your thighs, the feeling of his breath on your bare thigh. For a moment, you can’t breathe.

You’re warm. Not uncomfortably so, but encapsulated with an internal warmth. Like a fever spreading, the ice in your spine that you had lived with for years had begun to thaw.

“Why do you keep me around?” you whispered, still sitting stiffly, staring in awe down at the way he just nuzzled his face into your lap.

With his eyes still closed, face smooth from any worry from the question, he mumbled, “What do you mean?”

You only hesitated due to the thought crossing your mind; what if you bringing this up reminds him?

You thought back to the night in Harrington’s kitchen. The push and the pull, the bloody battle and the way he still called.

He was not as delicate as you took him for.

“I- What do you get out of this?” you couldn’t figure out how to phrase it correctly. You knew what you got out of this, but what does he get?

“Get out of what?”

“Get out of keeping me around.”

His eyes finally opened, twisting in your lap so that he could stare up at you. “You say that as if you’re forcing me to be your friend.”

I could be, that nagging voice in your mind whispered. You could very well be forcing him, and just be blinded because you were enjoying the summer of warmth that he carried with him too much to let him go.

“You never let me do anything for you,” you sighed, fingers finding themselves tangled in his roots against better judgment. But you needed to touch him, to ground yourself, as you admitted this hard truth, “You do shit for me all the time. You drive all the way out to this lake just because I complain about everything being too much. You’ve started playing chauffeur for the kids to give me a break. Harrington said you even offered to look at college brochures with him. And…. And I’m not stupid, Eds,” your voice shook as you looked down at him, a sudden feeling of undeserving striking you in your chest, “You do so much for me lately. And you don’t ask for anything in return – you don’t let me do anything in return. Why?”

His smile twisted with a hint of sadness, and brown eyes met your gaze without so much as flinching, “Sweetheart, why do you think you have to repay me for that stuff?”

“I-”

“No, hear me out,” he reached up, taking your hand out of his hair and lacing his fingers with yours, slowly dragging it down to rest on his sternum, “I chose to do that stuff. And, yeah, maybe I was trying to take some of that shit off your plate. But you didn’t ask me to. I chose to. I wanted to do those things, do nice things for you, because you won’t let anyone else.”

You bit back a scoff, “I let people do nice things for me-”

“You really don’t,” his hold on your hand tightened, “You really, really don’t. You constantly…. You just, you take care of everyone else, but you act afraid to let someone take care of you. People are allowed to take care of you, too, y’know? You should let them. They love you – they want to take care of you, just like you take care of them.”

They love you.

The air drained from your lungs in a slow, silent sigh. You waited a few minutes, but the oxygen never replenished as you tried to grasp his words.

They love you.

Why would they love me?

“Why wouldn’t they love you, sweetheart?” Eddie looked more concerned now, suddenly prepared to sit up and remove his head for your lap. But his hand still held yours tightly, still clung to you, “You know they love you, right? God, you gotta know that. We all love you.”

You hadn’t realized you’d spoken the bitter thought out loud until he looked at you, utterly heartbroken, in complete disbelief. “I…”

No. I don’t know that. What have I done to deserve their love?

“They need me, sure,” you started, narrowing your eyes at the breaks in the waves of Lover’s Lake, “I mean, I just try to make myself useful to them. It’s the least I can do when I… when they…” you struggled to get the words out. You saw that hole again, like a light at the end of the tunnel, but so far from the relief most mean by that metaphor. Something peeking around the corner, ready to devour you all over again. So you plunged, you prepared yourself for it to spring to life and take you whole as you nearly whimpered, “When they put up with me. It’s the least I can do when they put up with me.”

“No one puts up with you,” Eddie’s voice cracked. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes. “Least of all me.”

The deadliest of blows. He cracked your hardened surface with that, shook the foundations of every belief you’d held for eternity.

“Most of all you,” you corrected without thinking, “God, I- Eddie, seriously. What reason do you have for keeping me around? I don’t know how the fuck you put up with m-”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” you’d never heard him beg so painfully before then, “Please. Don’t… You want to know my reason?” you nodded numbly, finally looking to find him with wet eyes and lips pressed into a fine line, “Because you’re you. I… Fuck, I love you. I keep you around because you’re you. You’re good for me. Whether you believe it or not. You’re good for me just by being you, and there’s nothing you have to do to accomplish that,” you started to look away before he grabbed your cheeks, turning you to face him as he emphasized each word, “You don’t have to earn love. That’s not what love is. Got it?”

You looked into his eyes, and saw all the soft declarations of love echoed back to you, even from the very start.

‘Sweetheart, you don’t owe me your time. And I don’t need monopoly over it for us to be okay.’

‘The world doesn’t end just because you don’t constantly make yourself available.’

The entire time you’d been so worried about taking care of everyone else, he’d been worried about taking care of you. Endless late night phone calls, careful check-ins when he saw the exhaustion take the frontlines, sparse fights about putting yourself first. The only thing he ever wanted from you was for you to take care of yourself.

While you were busy being there for everyone else, he was busy being there for you.

He never once made you dig to the bottom of his grave to find the warmth. He’d handed it over on a silver platter.

So how could you look him in his at that moment, and tell him that you didn’t ‘get it’? That you’d never been sure if what you were seeking from your friends was really love? That, really, you’d given up on being loved a long time ago, assuming it was asking too much?

How do you look him in his eyes in that moment and tell him you had long since declared yourself unlovable?

He didn’t make you say it. Only kept your cheeks pressed between his palms, as he leaned forward, forehead meeting yours and whispering words for only you, “I love you, no strings attached. You’re my… friend. I love you. Okay?”

No one had ever fought so valiantly to get the point across. Not just that night at the lake, but in the entirety of his friendship with you.

The hole slinked back behind the corner. The darkness decided it could wait another day. And in its place, warm brown eyes filled the void. Whether he even realized it or not.

You nearly believed him. Nearly. But you bit down hard on that belief, throwing it out of sight, and instead of echoing back the ‘okay’ you assumed he was seeking out, all you did was sob out another, “Why?”

When you collapsed into him, he held you. Your sobs remained dry, your confusion palpable as you clung to him and tried to let that belief envelope you like his arms had.

I love you.

How could someone love you?

He didn’t press it the way you thought he would. He didn’t scold you for continuing to question him and he didn’t lash out at your disbelief.

He just held you. Letting your face press into his neck as his fingers ran up and down your spine, giving it a moment before he started talking again.

“Your humor,” he hummed after a couple moments of silence, heavy breathing eventually evening out.

“What?”

“The way you take care of others,” he continued on like he hadn’t heard you, “That spark you get in your eyes when you tell someone about something good. A favorite book, movie, story from your day – whatever it is. The way you give the best hugs – and you don’t give me them nearly often enough. The way you snore, and the way you definitely deny snoring.”

You opened your mouth, about to lift your head and argue with him, but he just placed an encouraging palm on the back of your head to keep you close to him.

“The way your favorite color changes with the seasons. The way you only like artificial cherry flavoring, not the real stuff. The way you look at night when we’re driving and you’re just screaming your favorite lyrics. The way you look at me to see if a joke lands. The way you fuss about my wrinkled clothes, even when you also don’t care about the wrinkles in your own shirts. The way you take your coffee. The way you always offer to paint one of my nails to match yours. The way you treat your recipe for chocolate chip cookies like some top secret, government trade. But we both know it’s just some recipe from a cookbook you thrifted when you were ten. The way you get excited over the small things, like the cows we pass by on the way out here. They're always there, and you always point them out. The way you just… are.”

He didn’t have to say it. He was answering your question.

He was listing his whys.

“You don’t have to earn it,” he didn’t say the word, not this time. You felt it, “It just… it’s there. It’s there and it’s not going anywhere. I’ll remind you of that every day if I have to.”

Loved. For the first time ever, it felt like a possibility; to be loved.

Eddie always knocks on your front door a certain way – a pattern he rarely strays from. But you can always tell. He’s the only fool who would find humor in knocking out such an annoying compilation of hits on the wooden panels until you finally unlatch the lock and open it to find him standing in your threshold.

His hair is frizzy and in a low ponytail, wearing a baggy band shirt and plaid pajama pants. He greets you with such a wide smile, your chest aches.

“Hey there, sweetness.”

You don’t say a word, just drag him inside before you wrap your arms around his waist. Ever since that night, and his admittance of enjoying your hugs, you made a conscious effort to hug him more often.

“Miss me?” he chuckles, and you feel the vibrations against your cheek as you softly pinch his side. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him only laugh harder once you pull away.

“Not at all,” you snark back as you make sure the door is securely shut and properly locked.

“Not even a little bit?”

“Nope.”

He smacks a fist to his chest as if you had stabbed him with your words, “Ouch. You wound me, sweetheart.”

“Get over it,” you tease. Your head has finally stopped swimming, your chest no longer tight with the fear of not being enough. Nancy is long forgotten as you say, “Have you eaten dinner?”

“Depends,” he hums as he toes off his boots, “If you’re offering to buy me some, then no, I definitely did not eat spaghetti with Wayne right before you called.”

You throw your head back laughing as he’s already making a beeline for your kitchen, digging out that damned takeout menu and reaching for the phone, already so sure of your order.

Knowing your order at restaurants. Without having to ask. Apparently, that was part of the whole ‘being loved’ gig.

Adjusting has taken months. Since that night in Eddie’s van, he’d kept his word. Not a day went by without him finding a way to remind you, whether it be by direct words or small actions, that he loved you. You both kept it under that friendly guise. He loved you in that familiar way, the way the others supposedly loved you. A way you could manage to recognize some days.

Other days were still rough. Days like today were still rough.

The takeout is ordered and Eddie sets up camp on your couch, rambling about something that had happened during one of the DnD nights he still hosted with the kids. Something about a dumb decision Mike did that cost most of the group their character’s lives. You have a hard time following along, and he’s quick to pick up on it.

“Hey, sweetheart?” he murmurs as you lean into the back couch cushion, smooshing your cheek as you watched him animatedly speak.

“Hm?”

“Bad day?”

He never judged you for the rough days. He never judged you for the days you still couldn’t find the love, even after he worked so virtuously to show it to you. He may never understand it, that hollow ache that resided in your darkest corners and whispered that none of it was real, but it never deterred him.

He loved you on good days, and he especially loved you on bad days.

You consider lying to him, but you can’t. Not when he looks at you so earnestly, “Yeah. It… yeah.”

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks you, shuffling to be more comfortable where he sits as he motions for you to lay down. You do so immediately, head finding a home against his thigh and his fingers stroking over your cheek before they toy with the ends of your hair.

All you can do is shake your head. You didn’t want to talk about that fear of failing Nancy as a friend, especially when you know that wasn’t her take away from it. It felt silly now; all that overthinking, when you know now if you questioned her on it, all she would have seen from the day was a friend lending a caring ear. You know because you had asked her about it once, if she found your listening habits too callous, upon Eddie’s insistence.

She hadn’t. In fact, all she could do was thank you, had insisted that she was just grateful someone would listen to her ramblings. And you understood that, left it at that.

“Okay,” he murmurs, voice so quiet you nearly miss it. His fingers continue to play across your shoulders now, barely weighted against bare skin, “That’s fine.”

He didn’t mind if you didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t mind if you never spoke another word, if all you needed was him here. You just needed him close by and to sit with you, to make it all a little less much.

Nothing. He needed absolutely nothing from you, asked nothing of you. Because you didn’t have to earn this. All you had to do was simply be, and he would provide this.

Love. What an odd concept, to have found warmth in a grave you never even got the chance to dig your shovel into.

“Hey, Eddie?” his fingers pause at your croaking voice. You smile at his stillness, at the way he hums carefully in response, still trying to offer the silence you quietly begged for, “I love you.”

There’s more to unpack there. More than just familial love, more than just two friends that love each other without conditions. But tonight is not the night, and you both see that it is enough. There will be other nights to dig your claws in and to dissect what those three little words mean between you two. There will be other nights to consider how your other friends don’t have a permanent spare toothbrush on your bathroom counter or a space for their takeout in your fridge. But not tonight.

For tonight, this was enough. The quiet, and the warmth, the being was enough.

“I love you,” he emphasizes the last word, leaning down and his lips grazing your temple.

You notice the way he leaves off the too. He’d love you, even if you didn’t love him. You’d love him, even if he didn’t love you. Unconditional, no strings attached. A warmth you do not have to fight to earn. A rarity you never encountered before, and may never encounter again, but you have for tonight and for as long as he chooses to stick around.

Your shovel sits abandoned in a shed in the distance. Your fingernails are clean of the dirt. The graveyard, it seems, would go another night without its robber.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #yeah the archer has a chokehold on me #idk man this is scary to post a put... a lot of myself in here #my bad #3k celebration

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cialovesklopp · 7 months ago

Text

prologue

❪ masterlist — ❫

summary — it's no secret anymore to anyone that follows f1 that mercedes is doing bad. something just isn't going the way it should. the silver arrows are going through a rough phase which leads toto to become a bit more creative about recrutement.

song — mercedes [ brent faiyaz ]

warnings — light mention of death and toxic environments

word counts — 5k

cia’s quick rambles — so sorry for the long wait, exams came up and i couldn't find enough time to edit this over. i'm so excited for this and hope i can make it justice to all the other good max stories.

— july 2023

there was always a certain sense of belonging that people attributed to specific persons or locations. often it was due to certain attachments and feelings people had grown for those persons or places that created this invisible bond. but it had never been like that for aaliyah.

she failed to form connections, to embrace attachments to people or things. like a program glitch in a computer, she couldn't fulfill the command despite the correct codes. she never truly felt rooted in any place — she never belonged somewhere.

she was too smart to be here, to sit in a back with other people that attended this class of university. yet the fear of her own intellect hindered her from leaving it. going to university was like going to school again — one schedule and one job. nothing else to worry about for the moment. she was relieved of the concern for something else.

going to university eased the pain of knowing that she felt like she would never belong somewhere.

after her father died, all she had received for giving ao much love was rejection. as if an unspoken rule had been set up, that stated that aaliyah had been the cause for it. and it certainly screwed up the rest of the life she had lived till now.

aaliyah had been destined to do great things — she remembered the way her middle school teachers told her that she would be the one to cure cancer. she had always been intelligent, not just smart — but terrifyingly intelligent.

they would laugh if they saw her now and where she was. wasting her potential away at a simple university in munich.

sometimes she looked out of the window and the resentment towards her family, especially her mother, burned hot in her stomach. getting lost in her thoughts meant her mind wandering off to far and opening boxes that were meant to stay closed. memories being replayed that contained secrets she wanted to take to her grave with her.

she may be closed off towards others but it was an efficient way to live. to protect her heart from disappointment again. she did not have the space to let a lot of people in again.

her heart had built a thick stone wall around itself after the accident. an accident, she would always blame herself for. everything was different from now: she was left with nothing but the void created by the loss of the only thing that held any meaning in her life.

now she felt like an empty shell of her former self, with no purpose or path to follow. the man who had said, a man with no purpose is no man knew what he was talking about.

aaliyah was walking on an endless journey that seemed to have no finishing line, a particular hopelessness gripping her tighter with each step she took. and it felt like an invisible string was always pulling her back.

tugging at her harshly till she fell back to where she started. it was a vicious circle, a haunting loop of pain — one that seemed to take no end. aaliyah was simply lost and no amount of therapy sessions could cure the inner pain she wandered around with.

“just one more day,” aaliyah murmured to herself. it was her typical mantra she told herself everyday to calm herself down, to reassure her that she was not caught in her past life anymore.

there were always the easier days and the harder days that needed assurance. days she passed on ease were often spent with eva. harder days however had her shivering in her bed, her entire body shaking and freezing.

she sat down on her usual spot in her physics and thermodynamics that were part of her engineering degree, her mind shutting down again while her eyes travelled around the room. it felt good to be able to think of something else when your brain was working twenty-four seven. when thousands of thoughts travelled through her brain every second and seemed to over analyze every information too quickly.

but something felt weirdly off today. the room was busy, full with more people than usual. this wasn’t a class for just anybody — people in here were ready to get their degrees in engineering. this class could compare to a harvard’s law class in terms of difficulty and intelligence. not everyone was able and allowed to take it and yet today the room was bustling with more people than usually.

aaliyah noticed the long queue outside the door, filled plenty with faces that she had seen on campus but all unfamiliar to her. she was not one to usually look for socialisation when it wasn’t exactly necessary. in addition to that there was also a feeling of anticipation, lingering lightly in the air. she was curious what all the turmoil was about but at the same time, she was reminded of caution towards it. the less she knew, the less were the chances to be entangled in it.

she smiled when her professor — who was her favorite — walked in and aaliyah instantly remarked that even he seemed excited about something. so she had definitely missed an important detail. but what exactly?

just like in every class, the professor began with reading out the attendance list, aaliyah lifting her hand to confirm her presence. she was surprised however when her professor then sent everyone else, that had not been named, out of the class.

“everyone whose name i have not called for the attendance of my class may leave now. i’m sure you all have your classes where you’re supposed to be today,” said her professor loudly, so that even in the back it was clear who was welcomed and who was not. aaliyah turned around and was surprised by the large number of men who all walked out disappointedly.

the rest exchanged excited whispers, all giddy about something but she couldn’t care less. it wasn’t like she had any friends in her class anyway. she wasn’t the only girl that took this class but she was one of the few that seemed to excel in it. and for some universal reason, women found it easier to be jealous than to work together.

their class started just like always, with one of them presenting their work about the mechanical piece they had been assigned to design as homework. the professor went on with his class, and aaliyah felt herself drifting off, her eyelids becoming heavier and heavier with every minute that passed. another impact of her insomnia that plagued her in the night. even running on several cups of coffee wasn’t doing it for her anymore, so that she resorted to sugar to stay awake.

she flinched, jolting awake when there was a knock on their door. she watched the way her professor’s lips turned upwards, forming into a smirk as he turned towards the door. “come in,” he said and in walked a man, tall and formally dressed in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black pants. he oozed a certain air of authority that had everyone quieten.

the atmosphere in the room changed instantly, aaliyah noticing her seat neighbour’s eyes widening but all she could observe was that he definitely did not belong here. he was definitely overdressed in comparison to her loose grey sweatpants that she had matched with a sweater that had yale university printed on. the irony of it.

her professor greeted the man like an old friend, making it clear to aaliyah that the two knew each other and it wasn’t a mandatory visit like the others they had gotten. however to her she did not know of his significance, completely left in the dark.

“so for today we have a special guest some of you may already know,” he interrupted them from their work, everyone stopping what they were currently doing to listen to him. “he is an old friend of mine and owed me a favor. but i’m going to let him present himself.”

the instant the guest began to speak, aaliyah could immediately make his austrian accent out. she was sure to have seen the man somewhere before but her brain, that was usually running at one-eighty, was failing her tragically.

“some of you may know me from racing, others just from motosport — but for the rest who do not: i am toto wolff and i’m the team chef of the mercedes-amg formula one team as well as the ceo of mercedes-benz motorsport.”

— so apparently, they had a celebrity in the room with them. explains the queue outside, aaliyah thought to herself.

“for those who do not follow motorsport as much: formula one is the elite of what concerns motosport. it’s the best against the best that compete there and the world of f1 is constantly changing due to this. as eighth time constructor’s champions we know that and what is expected of us. but for you, who are the future of engineering, i think it’s important that you get a realistic insight into what that actually contains.”

aaliyah now understood what all the turmoil really was about. they didn’t just have anybody in front of them — they were speaking to engineering royalty. not in the sense of wolff actually working in engineering but he was the reason the best worked with the best. because they absolutely needed to excel.

standing in front of them with their professor sitting down at his desk, he began to speak and tell them about the world of motorsport and the constant changing requirements they had to adapt to. he instantly had all of them hanging onto every of his words, captivating them with the way he spoke about the subject.

the main point of his entire talk was of course mercedes amg and its evolution; however he also highlighted the complexity of the entire motorsport business and how the industry actually worked. something that reality was hiding from them. it was a big field that covered all kinds of sections. aaliyah listened closely even though she didn’t see herself ever working in that kind of environment.

who would even hire her?

when the talk ended and students were allowed to ask questions, she found herself drifting off again and started to sketch mindlessly into her college block. it wasn’t that she shied away or conceived her fellow students as annoying; she just found socialisation exhausting and it wasn’t like they were going out of her way to speak with her.

her existence was only acknowledged by them when they required something from her, leaving her to always sit all alone in her row. her presence faded there into the loneliness and solitude she felt comfortable with. now she wouldn’t want to change it anymore.

after the whole questioning round, toto challenged the class to design a specific piece for a car to apply what they had learned the entire semester long. something that aaliyah was able to do in her sleep now. it was one of the rare occasions where she liked to let her brain run crazy to overanalyze every detail. to say that aaliyah was a perfectionist would be a clear understatement.

it was the curse of a mind that raced ahead of the rest, interpreting sometimes more than what was needed and leaving behind a lonely trail that she herself couldn’t always understand.

it was no surprise to her that she finished her sketch earlier than the others. however instead of just leaving it like that and calling toto over to see if she had gotten it right — which she had of course — she continued to develop her idea, letting her mind do its own work.

it wasn’t really refining that aaliyah was doing. the perfectionist in herself would call it stepping outside of comfort zones — and as long as it worked, no one cared anymore that there had been one. it was something her mother had taught her.

gloria, aaliyah’s mother was no saint. and she had enforced the lifestyle to aaliyah of finding loopholes in the system whenever she could. last time aaliyah had spoken to her had been two years ago, shortly before the accident.

possessing the knowledge that her own mother did not come by to see how her daughter was doing who was fighting between life or death — that had done it for aaliyah. cutting her mother off had probably been one of the easiest and yet also things she had accomplished. it wasn’t exactly a secret but it also wasn’t something she just shared with anyone in order to let the deep-etched wound in her heart heal.

the whole trauma-dumping aspect and all that.

caught up in her mind, aaliyah didn’t notice toto going around and looking at what the students had produced. his eyes stopped once they fell on aaliyah’s drawing and a slight look of surprise appeared on his face when he saw her drawing.

it was more like the astonishment and impression that appeared on his face when his eyes caught her sketch — he had given the same task to all the classes, especially those at harvard, and while they had all completed the task no one had ever thought further than the solution.

just like math they had solved the equation; found the x and that was it. they did not think about the correlation in which the answer might be related with the task or how they could give it more depth.

toto walked back down to the front where the professor sat and pointed discreetly at aaliyah who still seemed caught up in her thoughts.

“who is she?”

a mishevous twinkle lit up in the professor’s eyes. “ahh, that would be one of my students,” he retorted playfully.

“i’m serious.” he replied with a dry chuckle.

the professor looked at aaliyah, studying her in an interesting way, trying to take her all in again. “the student you’re so interested in is aaliyah prince. she’s one of my top student.”

toto nodded, his brain processing the information. “she’s smart. you’re teaching them well.”

“i can assure you she’s more than smart. it’s all her brain.” he had seen where toto wanted to go. one did not have to be an idiot or live behind the moon to know that mercedes was doing badly at the moment.

and he would be lying if he denied his soft spot he had grown for the black student. especially after find out out what she had all gone through.

the professor stood up, leaving toto with a perplexed expression. he cut the working phase in order for them to compare their results. aaliyah looked up and secretly took her airpods out to listen what they had to say.

she did not need any confirmation to know that her exercise was done correctly — it wasn’t really to sound (überheblich) but she had designed the same thing a hundred times before for exam preparation. so she only listened half-mindedly to what the others had to present. who were trying their best to impress the f1 team chef.

a small smile made its way onto her lips when she saw the message her best friend had sent her. with eva studying psychology and ethics, she often had more time than aaliyah and usually finished class earlier than her. and the two girls had started the habit to always get lunch together when possible — it was often the one thing aaliyah looked most forward to during the day.

class finally ended and she was one of the first persons to pack her things together and leave however her professor had other plans.

“frau prince, könnte ich kurz mit ihnen sprechen?” he asked her and aaliyah slowly trodded back into the room. she suppressed the growl her stomach let out and waited patiently for what her professor had to say. — could i speak to you quickly

her professor pointed to toto, who was still mustering her with a skeptical yet curious glance. “he is the one who would like to talk to you.”

“me?” she asked perplexed.

toto nodded. “your drawing was very impressive. you thought ahead of the task and developed it to make it more than just a simple design. that’s exactly what we need.”

“for what?”

“a job,” toto replied in a short way. “we need someone like you and you do seem to fill out all the requirements.”

aaliyah looked at him confusingly. “excuse me sir, i don’t want to be rude but do you usually give out jobs to students after giving a lecture?”

toto let out a small-wholehearted laugh. “no, i actually do not. you’re a special case i guess.”

was zum himmelswillen, aaliyah thought in her mind as she looked at the man in front of her. and people told her she was crazy sometimes.

she pinched herself, just to make sure that she was not dreaming this and still in class and stared at toto with wide eyes. she was no one special, she did not come from huge money and she had a huge past that she would prefer if it stayed hidden.

aaliyah couldn’t leave, even if she wanted to. all roads led back here anyway.

“and this job… where and what would it be?” she inquired carefully.

“i want you to become your new chief technical engineer. well not officially but i want you to fill someone’s position while they’re on personal vacation.”

her professor smirked at her whereas aaliyah’s face scrunched up in confusion.

“i thought you needed the best of the best? i’m sure there are thousands of people who probably meet the requirements you have and have the actual experience. i know nothing about formula 1 and racing cars.”

“maybe but i think a fresh pair of eyes would do us some good. and i’ve been told you have a degree in physics which is incredible at her age.” he reached for his bag and pulled out a small green card. “think about it and then give me a call.”

“why me? if it’s because of the task, everyone finished it and got it correct.”

“but they didn’t think further than the basic task which you did. you thought ahead, developed your starting idea and that’s exactly what we need right now. innovation. someone to think outside of the box.”

he bid goodbye to her professor, waved one last time to aaliyah with a small smile and then left the room. her eyes did not leave the door, even after he had left the room as she stared into the distance. she had already forgotten eva and their planned lunch date.

she looked at the card in front of her and turned it around to inspect it more. it was probably the weirdest thing to have happened to her in the past two years.

the thought of leaving, as nice as it sounded, also terrified her deeply. petrified her mind when she wondered whether she could. she had rebuilt a life here, created a new identity that was not instantly connected with the pain and trauma she had to go through.

she wasn’t aaliyah, the stupid girl from back home anymore. who had mistaken attachment for love and fallen deeply into a trap that could be described as the demise of her life. the peripety if her life story was ever made into a movie.

“i can see the wheels turning in your head from here,” her professor tore her out of her thoughts and aaliyah turned.

she let out a small chuckle, staring at the card in front of her. “this is probably the weirdest thing that has happened to me since i started here.”

“could also be seen as the best thing,” her professor replied.

“i don’t know how smart it is to start something else when i haven’t finished this. finished here.”

“aaliyah, you’ve always dreamed of doing this, getting out of here. and somebody just handed you your way out of here on a golden plate.”

aaliyah put the card into her bag. “not everything that shines is usually gold. this could hurt me in many ways if it backfires. and what about my degree?”

her professor waved dismissively. “i’ll simply write this down as a project. we’ll admit it as your fourth semester internship that you would have to do anyway.”

it seemed easy, way too easy for aaliyah. it couldn’t be as simple as this.

she grabbed her bag and was about to walk away when her professor called her back again.

“aaliyah, please think about this. i know you probably think you do not deserve this but you do. let some happiness into your life again.”

“i’ll think about it.”

she nodded and exited the class. at least this time she would have something to tell eva in her class. she would rather drink acid than listen eva rant about her crazy sex escapades from last night.

the two girls were sitting on aaliyah’s bed in her bedroom, adorned with the soft rays of light as it took its descent and a bottle of wine between them with two glasses in front. they were sipping on the bordeaux liquid while she recounted what had happened to her today, the wine making aaliyah pour all her feelings out.

the blonde sat across from her, listening patiently as she tried to console the black woman. too often the two found each other in this position, with eva either bringing the best wine or the cheapest vodka she could find.

aaliyah always found a certain sort of solace and calm within her best friend. the two had met at a stupid frat party aaliyah had been forced to go by her roommate and had been inseparable since then. and over that time, eva had stayed by her side when she had gone through the endless trauma of her mother and had helped her get out of her toxic environment.

they were connected through more than friendship at this point with the amount of shit the two had already gone through.

“i have no idea what i’m going to do,” she sighed, swinging her glass absentmindedly. “it’s a good job offer — like i want to do this but i can’t leave everything just here.”

“girl, the only thing i see is you sabotaging yourself again. i mean, what are you leaving here? your annoying class of misogynistic assholes? that sorry excuse of a woman that calls yourself your mother? i’m sorry honey but the only thing you would be leaving behind is me and i can take the family jet anytime if i wanna visit you.”

aaliyah threw a pillow at her best friend. “hey, they’re not all bad. we are five girls in my class.”

“and four of them choose to be jealous, racist bitches towards you,” eva replied sassily. “look, i get it. change can be scary as fuck and speaking as a philo-major, we humans don’t like stepping out of our comfort zones. but staying won’t make you any happier.”

she chewed on her bottom lip, taking in eva’s advise. “but you know how much they sacrificed for me, to come here and start over. how much it meant to him for me to do this.”

eva threw her arm around aaliyah, pulling her back with the sudden force and making her nearly lose her drop her glass. "oh love, i can assure you the last your father probably wanted was for you to stick and waste your entire potential here. clinging to familiarity is never going to change things and it’s not gonna be the salvation you’re seeking so much.”

deep down aaliyah knew that eva was spot on with her analysis of her. but behind the truth hid so much more. aaliyah wasn’t looking for happiness and forgiveness anymore, she had accepted that she could never deserve his pardon. she had tried to forgive herself, to move on but she always stayed in the same spot. the huge amount of guilt that paralyzed her from moving on would never allow her to thrive and live. because she was the reason someone else couldn’t.

and that person deserved it so much more than she did.

eva grabbed aaliyah’s hand. “i don’t want you to stay here because i know you’re not happy. this entire city will always remind you of them. and you’ll never get over it if you stay here. you deserve to thrive and let’s be honest, that’s not gonna happen here.”

“but even if — this job is just a lot. working there would mean constantly traveling and not settling down.”

“wasn’t it your dream to travel the world just like your dad? taking this job would make it ten times easier. it’s practically your ticket to do this.”

“so you really think i should take this leap?”

eva snorted. “i would be lying to you if i said i want this completely because you’re my best friend and i hate you leaving. but for you, yes. take this job and be happy. it’s not only what your dad would have wanted for you — micah would have wished for you to do the same.”

she nodded, disregarding the pang in her heart at the sound of his name. her presence here, away from the turmoil she'd created, stemmed from the cascade of events that led to his demise. a single misstep initiated the unraveling, each consequence toppling like dominoes until the crash. it all lead back to her.

when the last drops of bordeaux had been consumed by the two students, the blonde stood up and bid her goodbyes to aaliyah, announcing that she had an early morning tomorrow. eva hugged her once more and pressed a soft kiss on her cheek — a habit they had developed.

“please promise me that you’ll think about it,” eva had murmured into her ear and aaliyah had nodded, which seemed enough to satisfy her. her best friend had left then and she found herself all alone again.

taking this job seemed to be so easy, everyone she had talked to seemed to push her towards it. but it was almost too easy which frightened aaliyah so much.

she was qualified enough for the job in terms of intelligence. the job was not completely out of world for her but she could not imagine herself leaving. her mind had twisted everything to the beautiful life she lived in that in the end was just an illusion -- but an illusion so ideal and perfect that she didn’t want to leave it.

it was like knowing that one was wearing rose-colored glasses and deliberately leaving them on, with no regard for all the consequences it could cost.

taking this job was a risk for her, she knew that much already. but eva was right, micah would have wanted this for her. and she owed it to him to at least try. no matter how big the impact of her fall would be. it was the least she could honor him with after destroying everything.

accepting this position posed a gamble for her, she knew that much already. but eva was right. micah would've wanted this for her. she felt indebted to him, compelled to make the attempt, regardless of how big her potential downfall could be. it seemed the minimum homage she could offer after dismantling everything.

it was way past eleven when aaliyah grabbed the card toto had given her earlier and her phone and tipped in his number. she was anxiously tipping her foot as she waited for the caller to take the call and was surprised when it only had to ring three times.

it was now or never.

“hello?” a hoarse voice asked on the telephone and aaliyah innerly groaned. people were sleeping at this hour, of course it was the wrong timing.

“this is aaliyah, the girl you offered a job today sir,” she said nervously.

toto gave a small laugh. “yeah, i remember and you really don’t have to call me sir.”

she nodded even though he couldn’t see her. “okay, understood. i just -- well, i wanted to inform you that i’m taking it. the job as interim chief technical engineer.”

“i’m very happy to know that you’re accepting my offer.”

there was no going back now, aaliyah realized. she had taken the first step towards a vast mountain that had no way to return back. there was only one path and she had just sealed her fate by taking it.

“yeah, i just hope i won’t regret it.”

“i have no doubts that you’re going to excel. but remember: formula one is ruthless and you’re competing with the best now.”

if she had known before, how far people were willing to go to win, she definitely wouldn't have taken the position.

#max verstappen x black oc #max verstappen series #max verstappen x oc #max verstappen #max verstappen instagram au #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen oneshot #max verstappen x black reader #max verstappen imagine #mercedes #mercedes amg f1 #mercedes amg petronas #f1 x female reader #f1 #lewis hamilton

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yuseirra · 23 days ago

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(Vague..hints about what 165 would be, I heard about it, I'm...scared to see that chapter. It sounds really horrifying, I can't phrase it otherwise.)

I think I'm going to jot down my feelings. I honestly feel so, so sorry for people who like this manga..; on the bright side it's been a work that's...imbued things in me to write and draw this much about myself but I wish that'd only have happened on a positive note.

I think the author is really being too much..;; They're being so cruel. For what? Can this story get across a proper message? That's what's most important to me and I can take it if I'm convinced it is but... This current route is so far from what most audience would believe as fulfilling or.. Feel happy about seeing. Unless this is fake and the last chapter has some sort of happy closure to it all.

I started reading onk after the anime came out last year and kept up with it, ordering the volumes and reading them. After Chapter 154 and listening to the opening for Season 2, I just thought, “Ah, this is what it is… This is it.” (If you read my oldest? theory posts about this work, this July, you’d know what I mean. I think I’ve figured it all out, and so far, nothing I’ve said back then has been disproven; on the contrary, it STILL makes the most sense.)

I have myself an idea of what this could be, but unless Ruby uses Amaterasu’s power to save everyone and bring them into a happy timeline in the final chapter, this is just...;;

Haha, seriously, this is... phew...

It’s true that Ai and the person she really loved had mutual feelings, but that person went completely insane and caused some incredibly serious issues, forcing Aqua to go after him with everything he had.

From how things are unfolding, I think these points have been confirmed.

We also learned that person was originally good enough to be called noble<I feed off this info like cow eats grass... That's the thing that keeps me going lol Kamiki is nuts...oh please...I really care for him

We know Aqua had a mission assigned from the gods.

For Ruby’s future, he had to capture their father, and this task required him to put everything he built in the story so far on the line.

I kind of understood this? Even if accepting it is a different matter.

No matter how important revenge is in Aqua’s narrative... it’s like, what should I even say? Kamiki ended up devouring Aqua’s story to such an extent that the latter part of the story feels overshadowed by him, and yet Kamiki hasn’t been explored in enough depth for that.

For those following Aqua, this progression feels incredibly harsh. Even if you were rooting for Aqua, the villain he’s up against should be properly fleshed out. Kamiki is full of gaps everywhere. Maybe some parts are intentionally hidden, but what they’ve done feels too much like a Deus ex Machina.

The things he’s been said to have done aren’t even within the realm of what an ordinary human could achieve, it's beyond logic. So unless he’s literally a god, it doesn’t make sense. That’s why I kept insisting he’s divine. When you look at the clues related to his character, there’s actual foreshadowing that supports this theory. If he isn’t, then nothing makes sense. I even wrote a post as soon as Fatal dropped. I just knew THAT had to be it.

There are so many actions he took that can’t be explained unless he’s something beyond human, things that even gods would need to intervene in, assigning missions to Aqua and Ruby. That’s the development that makes the most sense.

Even so, this plot is too much for fans who have loved and followed this series.

I kind of get it, but for fans who have been deeply attached and following this work(this includes me too), the final chapter… Even if there’s something to look forward to, it doesn’t seem like it’ll be worth getting your hopes up. And I'm usually a very hopeful person. It feels like the author wanted to try writing an ending like this, but even then, this... The last 10 chapters or so feel like they consumed all the preceding content.

If Kamiki had been more prominently featured and well-developed, that might have been different (I probably analyzed him more than anyone else out there, because there wasn’t much to go on, and I tried to understand what kind of person he was, filling in the gaps to infer his behavior and motives since his perspective was never shown). But Kamiki, who isn’t as well-developed as Aqua, now holds a weight in the story that makes Aqua sacrifice everything he’s built. I really wish they did both characters justice. I really liked them both.

In that case, he needs to be an unimaginably terrible villain. From what spoilers suggest, what he’s done is indeed severe. But if Ai truly loved such a person, and that’s flipped with the limited remaining chapters, the story becomes trash... Haha. Then what’s the point? I don’t know. That, I really don't wish nor see being contradicted.

Kamiki was kind but lost his mind. (Him being kind is something I never want to give up till the end. I just see it REALLY well too.) So he did a lot of things, I get that. But can something of this scale really happen in modern society, to the point where the protagonist must sacrifice their life?

If so, shouldn’t there be some justification brought in from outside the story to make it convincing? Hence, Kamiki is essentially a god, as suggested by his very name. He was a noble god who fell. There’s enough context, hints, and foreshadowing to support that. He was exposed to malevolence from a young age and became tainted by it. He probably did love Ai, which is why he wielded his power so recklessly, driven by madness to reunite with her.

But even with this, there’s hardly any explanation. Why he went mad, what he did with his life—it’s all glossed over in a few panels. If he’s the villain that the protagonist *must* defeat, there should have been more depth and depiction to fuel that narrative, but it’s incredibly ambiguous. The story just throws a few lines at us and expects us to believe, “He could do all this, so the protagonist had to die,” and that’s it. (That's why... I'm not really sure if they make it want to seem like he's THE bad guy either. Since it's rarely explored in detail so we can't sympathize with the victims if they exist and...hate this guy even more for it. That approach I agree with, because it shouldn't be that way if this story wants a message. But who knows. Scary stuff; it just makes you baffled and dumbfounded and go, "what is this?";; Again, it'd make me question, 'What kind of guy did Ai even love?' I do have my own answers for that. He's her previous divine husband who became hopelessly flawed upon losing her, THAT'S what, so it's not on HIM that he's turned out that way. But who knows.)

Do you think that’s convincing...?💦 I’m filling in the blanks myself, but this feels too much. Whether the final chapter is 50 pages or 100 pages, it can’t wrap this up properly unless Ruby turns back time to save everyone and bring them happiness. I’ve heard there are about 50 pages for 166, but isn’t that just two chapters’ worth? It’s basically the same as a double issue, and given how little content there’s been in recent chapters, even if they combine two, I don’t think it’ll be impactful.

I genuinely feel sorry for the fans of this series. Does this development make sense to you? I’m so baffled that I can’t help but laugh when I think about the plot. It’s not even funny; it’s just painful to watch. How many people would have wanted this kind of ending? I once wrote that over 70% of fans might end up hating the conclusion, that I have a bad feeling about the writer having some kind of personal ambition to create a "twist" and experiment on it out of their artistic desires - and if it ends like this, they probably will. It's not like I didn't see it coming. I did tell all the others who came to read this work upon reading my fanworks to wait until it's complete, there are some things I really appreciate about it, but I wasn't sure it'd progress on your usual, happy and safe route. It could have been that way. The answers were all there. There were many opportunities where there were chances of this story getting an ending many would be satisfied with,

And if I’m wrong about everything I’ve said here, I’ll be just as lost. I really won’t understand any of it. But I’m confident I’m right.

The traits of Kamiki match those of the husband of Ame-no-Uzume in at least ten ways. That god even had a story that said he drowned.(but if he really died, that's ambiguous and he is worshipped pretty well along with his beloved Amenouzume)That's just too much to be brushed off as coincidence, he's at least INSPIRED from that god.

I believe he was originally very kind. I can’t let go of that idea, because it’s been evident to me, and it sticks in my mind. But if that’s true, then this is the story of someone who was kind but went mad, and a son who became a vengeful spirit after his mother’s death. The mother, worrying about the father, left what was almost like a final wish: “If your father is still straying, won’t you help him with me?” But the son kills his father, thinking there’s no hope for him, and ends up dying himself in the process. If that’s really the story, then how... how can there be any positive message to take away from this?

I think I understand what’s going on. I think I do... but the story has been so unfriendly and, as a result, feels disrespectful to fans who have loved the series.

I'm actually thinking: if Kamiki IS Sarutahiko the god of guidance who's been TWISTED due to making EVERY possibilities of a future turn horribly wrong, are we WITNESSING his powers in real time?? Is THIS an extension of what he's capable of? because, I feel like.. He's been bringing sufferings to everyone including himself. Oh in that case I'd totally understand his pain. He really would be suffering. And he's THAT dangerous. What if this comic is being really meta, huh?? I think he doesn't want this either. Losing Ai just.. Totally shattered him I bet. But seeing how things are, I think it could really have been his powers that caused her to die in the first place, unintentionally though. I won't forgive the author if HE'S the one who's killed Ai AND he's been doing all these things in order to get her back afterwards, that is just...so rude. It has no point...

There’s still one chapter left, and I know it’s not right to make a judgment prematurely, but if things go on like this, it’s truly too much...; I genuinely feel bad for those who have loved this work wholeheartedly. And for myself... if it doesn’t end as I’ve thought, then I’ve been completely mistaken, haha. But I came into this with confidence, not about Aqua’s side of things(I thought HIM out of all should get a happy ending. I still wish for that to happen), but about what the story wanted to convey through Aqua’s parents. I believed there could be a meaningful message despite how difficult it seemed, so I took the initiative and interpreted it, drew a lot. If I’m wrong, I can only blame my insight... The story itself never changed; it just stayed there. But I was confident. I’ve never been wrong when it comes to instincts or analyses related to psychology. I thought I knew what this was...

I hope this work gets resolved in a way that is respectful towards its fans whom really cared for the series...they-we-deserve that as much as the authors deserve respect. We're in this together as a fan and the writers. We should care about each other.

#oshi no ko #oshi no theories #oshi no ko spoilers #hikaru kamiki #aqua hoshino #for the time being...the ones I feel most sorry for are the aqua fans and kana fans #next in line would be hikaru fans(ugghh...I guess I really liked what I made of him. I still don't think I'm wrong but)#spoilers #if hikaru looks bad..I don't think ai would be in that good of a spot either idk man #that's why they have to be gods #I just..see him as one. that guy..is not a normal human being. what he can do is illogical #I think he really did grant ruby and aqua's wishes-that's why he came to visit them! ge just couldn't live without Ai #long post

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nile-the-empathy-cleric · 1 year ago

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Hello! I am just starting my journey on reconnecting with my traditional roots as an Italian practitioner. My great grandparents came from Italy in the mid 1900s, but unfortunately passed before I had the pleasure of asking about their practices. Can I ask a good starting point for someone who is trying to reconnect all on her own?

Hello!

I am so happy that you are wanting to reconnect with your roots! I'm sorry you didn't get the opportunity to ask your grandparents, my deepest condolences for your loss.

In terms of resources, my recommendation for anyone starting out is to go to folklore sources or to read books by authors who don't simply reference other witchcraft authors. I highly recommend reading Italian Folk Magic: Rue's Kitchen Witchery by Mary-Grace Fahrun. It's mostly her personal experience with Italian folk-Catholicism and magic with plenty of anecdotes, recipes, superstitions, and various rituals. I think it's probably the best widely available source out there. She also has a youtube channel! In a similar vein, the website Italian Folk Magic has some great posts about Southern Italian and Sicilian magic.

Other online resources I've found useful are Gail Faith Edwards' writings on Southern Italian healers and folk medicine (it's split into 2 parts–– there's a lot of great information if you're into herbalism/ green witchcraft). I also love this article detailing witchcraft history, superstition, and more throughout Italy. It goes into a lot of detail and has some information about herbal properties and their uses as well.

Here are some festivals and traditions from across Italy tied to folk belief: Focara of Novoli, The Campanacci in Basilicata, The Feast of San Domenico and the Ritual of Serpari of Cocullo, Naca Procession in Southern Italy, Dance of the Devils, Celebration of Santa Lucia, The Feast of Mamma Schiavona––There are many others (mostly Saint feasts) that have pre-Christian roots or have significant rituals attached.

Most information that I have collected comes from anthropological and folklore sources that aren't very accessible. There are some videos available of documentary footage of Italian anthropologist Ernesto de Martino's work detailing folk tradition: here's a clip of La Taranta. This documentary isn't in English, however you can still get a lot out of it even if you don't speak Italian (unfortunately there are no subtitles). The documentarian that worked with de Martino, Luigi Di Gianni gives some of his recollections here. Here is a clip documenting the Feast of Mamma Schiavona. Otherwise, everything else is behind a paywall on sites like jstor, sagepub, and other academic publishers. I would recommend reading anything by anthropologist and folklorist Sabina Magliocco (I have copies of her work), as well as de Martino's Magic: A Theory from the South (which I also have a pdf of). The academic texts can be a little dense and daunting, but they're worth the read.

I have uploaded some of what I have to WeTransfer, but it will only be up for 1 week (until July 10th) so if anyone else would like to download them, you can for a limited time!

#italian folk magic #folk magic #folk traditions #witchcraft #beginner witch #baby witch #witchblr #italian witchcraft #grimoire #book of shadows #streghe #stregoneria #benedicaria #witch tips #long post #witches of tumblr

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darklydeliciousdesires · 4 months ago

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Sky Full of Stars - Chapter Nineteen.

I'm so sorry I missed an update last week, guys. Friday was a busy one for me! Hope you enjoy it, and happy Friday to you all :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 4,351

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI!

The normalcy of being home; it was something she craved above all when her life and career took her far away from it, Jade standing softly singing to herself as she stirred a pot of sauce upon the stove, her dogs milling around, Salem in his usual place upon the rug. Their other cat, Juno, wasn’t present, the big, pale grey Mane Coon exactly where she always was whenever they were home; welded to Adrien’s side.

It was very fair to say she was daddy’s girl.

They had four days left with one another before he would fly out to Rome to begin shooting his next project, the film entitled Third Person, the locations switching between the Italian capital, Paris and New York for twelve weeks, Adrien’s stint filming in Italy taking up nine of those. She would be leaving just before he came home, off to LA to work on a film she’d very much been looking forward to, a biopic about musical legend Gregg Allman, in which she would be playing a woman – who became an even bigger legend than he, if you asked her – he'd been married to for three years back in the seventies.

Yes. She was playing Cher. And god, she was so excited. She’d nearly pee’d with elation when the lady herself had called her up and congratulated her, the women enjoying a long conversation about the upcoming role. ‘Just make sure you play me right, kid’, the icon had told Jade, who had walked around her house in a daze afterwards, only able to mutter ‘I just spoke to Cher on the phone, and she’s bloody lovely!’ on repeat for the following hour, giggling too.

She giggled to herself all over again at the memory, wobbling a little, the fact that she’d only eaten half a bagel and a salad that day playing havoc with the fact she was on her second large glass of wine. Looking up, she saw the back door open, her paint flecked husband coming in, a very contented Juno riding his shoulder.

“There’s my baby love,” he cooed, “cooking things that smell entirely too good. What are we having?”

“Baked Ziti.” Ahhh, yes. Marry a girl from Italian roots and damn, the food she’ll cook for you. “And a fuckload of salad. I can’t have more than a few mouthfuls. I need to keep small to play Cher. Her body in the seventies was something else!”

“I think you can spare a little more than that, Burtie,” he spoke, wrapping his arms around her, Juno jumping down to the floor neatly. “Really, you’re like a pin with great tits as it is.”

“Pin with great tits and a six pack!” she shouted playfully, yanking up her t shirt. Any chance she got to flash her abs, she took it, Adrien bending to blow a raspberry against her stomach.

“Sexy as hell, honey.” Giving her a big kiss, he reached for the open wine bottle, pouring himself a glass before jumping to sit on the counter, a nearby Brando rising up on his hind legs to place his paws on his knees, chew toy proffered forth. “So, gimme the rundown. You’re in LA from April seventeenth to May twenty first, and then what?”

Giving the sauce another gentle stirring, she then put the hob on beneath the large pot of water to take care of the pasta. “Then we’re flying straight to the UK to headline the Friday at Download festival, then onto Germany to do another open air, then spending a week out there before moving onto the festival in France, then Spain, meaning I’ll arrive back on the July fifteenth with three days to spare before big pony gets here!”

Oh, how excited she was for the arrival of her horse, everything ready for Mia when she got there, Jade having spent an eye watering amount of money on all the associated paraphernalia horses needed, including many thousands on a horse truck to actually bring her back from the airport in. She was worried about her having to be flown over, scared of her becoming panicked, being on the plane, but calmed a little for knowing she would be given a mild sedative prior to her flight, plus the fact that Wolfgang, the groom from the riding school would be flying with her.

“And then it all calms down for a while,” he spoke, letting Brando win their tug o’ war game, the dog shaking his rope and trotting off to chew it over the other side of the kitchen. “It’s gonna be so damned strange, spending almost three months at home before I’m back working.”

They had a few commitments between late June and mid-September, a few public appearances, invited to the Malaysian Grand Prix, a few charity events in New York, LA and London, a movie premiere for the last film Jade had shot and two for Adrien, but mostly they would get to enjoy a slower pace for once. It was virtually unheard of, for a couple who worked as hard as they did, both very much looking forward to an extended period of being able to spend some quality time together.

“What’s this here?” he then asked, leaning over to reach for a handful of printed sheets of paper.

“Oh! I meant to show you that and then I had wine!”

Snorting a laugh, he looked at what he held, turning the pages as he tried to make sense of it. “It’s a teeny house of some sort?”

“It’s a hen house, complete with roost. I’m making it myself since I couldn’t find anything I liked the look of online,” she spoke, sipping her wine and slotting herself between his thighs, Adrien wrapping his legs around her. “Stop laughing.”

“I’m not.” That was negated somewhat by the shaking shoulders as he at least attempted to keep it in. “Burtie, we both know you and assembly don’t go hand in hand. You can’t even do flatpack.”

She was aghast. “I bloody can!”

Oh, the little bubble of delusion his beloved liked to live within. “The shelves in the bathroom?”

“I got them done!” There was a pause. “Eventually.”

“The bed at your place in the city? Granted, that was before my time, but Jen told me that you called her having a meltdown when you couldn’t get it assembled.”

“It was difficult holding things together while lining the screws up!”

“And you think joinery is gonna be any easier? With the nails and the sanding and the measuring?”

She tightened her lips, trying not to laugh as he raised one eyebrow significantly higher than the other. “Will you let me help you before I go away?”

“I can manage fine, Bug.”

He hummed, resting his chin atop her head. “I’m not convinced at all. I don’t want to come home to a wife whose missing bits of herself, and the idea of you using a saw unassisted is scary as hell.”

“How dare you cast such aspersions upon my DIY skills!” she gasped comically, flicking the papers in his hands with her finger a couple of times. “I’m working to plans! I measured, I even plotted out ground space, too!”

Looking at them again, he concentrated, pointing at the measurements at the top of the page. “The roof will overhang the actual structure by four feet.” He couldn’t help but laugh at the sour face he was greeted with. “Stop scowling because you’re wrong. I’m helping you.”

She finally smiled, realising that he was right and yes, she could likely do with a little assistance with her project. “Thank you." Kissing him, she went back to the pot upon the hob, picking up her phone and ordering all the timber needed from the nearest lumber yard, choosing the express option that would have the items delivered by noon the following day.

When noon arrived, what began with good intentions after the delivery had been dropped off soon became a lesson in why couples, even those who rarely fought beyond stupid bickering, should never, ever attempt a joint DIY project.

“No, that’s a side panel. It isn’t a floor piece.” He took a breath, at least attempting not to let his temper be further prickled.

“It isn’t. The floor pieces are flat, the side panels are ridged. I haven’t nailed the last one together yet.”

“Well, why the fuck not? It needs the last side panel putting on before the floor!”

“Because as I just fucking said, I haven’t nailed it together yet!”

“Then why not do that first instead of doing the floor?”

“Because then I’ve got a space to easily get in and out of it to put the floor pieces in, haven’t I? If I don’t, then I’ve got to crawl through the pissing tiny little hen door, and I’m about four feet too fucking tall for that, Adrien!”

“Or, and how about this for a revelation, since the roof isn’t on yet, just turn it upside down and nail the floor into the frame that way, so the nails then go up into the side pieces too and give it more support! Fucking hell!”

Her jaw tightened staring at her husband, pointing the claw hammer she held towards him. “Knock the sarcasm off. You’re being a prick for the sake of it.”

“And you’re being your usual, insufferable self who can’t get things done logically.”

“Oh, alright, fucks sake!” she yelled, dropping the hammer with a thud. “So I didn’t think to upend it to nail the flooring on. True to form, you just have to be an all-knowing arsehole about it, don’t you?”

He snorted, shaking his head. “And you wanted to do this by yourself. You’d have ended up with something like Homer Simpson had when he was making the doghouse.” He couldn’t help but laugh, realising how stupid their argument had become, looking up fondly. “I’m sorry.”

“Fuck off.”

“Come on, Jade. I said I’m sorry. Help me turn this over and we’ll get the floor nailed on.” While he was all for moving on with things speedily, Jade was a stewer, and stew on it she did, looking at him from under a furrowed brow. “Ow! Jesus fuck, Jade!”

“What now?” she shouted, wishing for nothing more than a packet of matches, so she could set fire to her very bad idea. Why did she have to be so fussy? Why couldn’t a pre-assembled hen house have been good enough?

“You just dropped it on my hand!”

“Shit, are you alright?”

“No.” She went to approach him, Adrien pointing. “Uh-uh. Bad to be near me right now. Very bad.”

While he stormed off in the direction of the house, grasping his hand, she stood and took a deep breath. Big things they never truly argued about, somehow they seemed to have a very efficient synergy for dealing with larger problems they faced, but little things? Oh, they blew up. Both acting like stubborn idiots mostly.

Knowing he needed time to cool down, she nailed the floor pieces on herself, then assembled the side panel, carefully turning the roost over to affix it. The roof frame was placed on, long nails hammered in to secure it to the main frame, only the roof panels left before it had to be affixed to the base frame, lifting it up high. She was about to begin nailing said panels on when a familiar scent drifted under her nose, Jade turning to see Adrien over to the side of the house, sitting on the outdoor couch on the patio.

“Wow, I drove you to weed, hmm?”

He side eyed her, picking up the bottle of beer he’d also brought out with him. “I think I might have driven myself to it, too.” That time, when he laughed softly, softness was returned, his wife moving to sit at his side, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and kissing it.

“How’s your hand?”

He sniffed, holding it up. It was marked with a bright red line and a few grazes. “Had to yank out a few splinters. Nothing that being a little stoned won’t fix.”

“Or you’ll fall asleep,” she shrugged, moving to lie her head on his lap, taking the joint when he passed it to her.

“There’s a fifty percent chance of that,” he winked, making her snort softly.

“Oh, not so mad that I won’t get the brunt of the horny sex demon, then?” she chuckled, blowing smoke down her nose.

He leaned to her, kissing her forehead. “No, but I will fuck you angrily, Moo.”

Any lingering tension melted away as she boomed a laugh, taking another drag, feeling the strong weed beginning to work. Her giggles only intensified, moving to lie with her head on his lap.

“Look at you, fucking weed lightweight,” he spoke. Neither were particular hardened to it, though, smoking it as infrequently as they did. “What’s funny?”

“The fact that we...” She sent him into a snorting mess, watching her hiss with laughter. “The fact that we can weather the hugest of storms in our life without so much as a crossed word, but building a hen house is what tips us into all the yelling and the rage!”

“And then we get stoned and laugh about how completely ridiculous we are. Works for me,” he spoke, supressing a cough, taking another drag and handing it back to her, beginning to bounce his thigh beneath her head.

“No, stop. You’ll give me motion sickness.”

Why that was so hilarious, he had no idea, but it took him a good three minutes to stop laughing. Looking down, he continued to snicker, seeing Jade prodding her tongue against the zipper of his cargo pants. “You’ll wake him up.”

“Maybe I want to.” Moving her hand, she pressed against his crotch, feeling a swell of semi-erectness there already. “Mmm, already awake, so I feel.” Moving astride him, her fingers glided through his hair giving it a little tug as she tickled his lips with her tongue, kissing him with slow, syrupy heat. “If you'll excuse me, I think I need to kiss you right here.” she purred, grasping his rapidly thickening cock with a soft moan, tongue flickering against the stubble upon his throat.

“Eventually,” he grunted, mouth moving to her neck, pulling her black vest top up. “After I’ve sucked your tits.”

Who was she to deny a man who hungered for her nipples? Pulling off her top while he flicked her bra undone, she gasped at the contact, the bud of her nipple bathed in a warm, wet hug, his big hands kneading softly as she rocked against him. Pressing herself against his cock had little shocks tingling within her, a soft mewl leaving her pretty lips when her other nipple was closed upon with a bite, his hands moving to smooth up and down her back.

“Get these off," he instructed, tugging her cut offs, Jade backing off him to do just that, sliding them and her little red thong off, yanked back into his arms, his fingers pushing into her folds as he resumed the suck around her nipple. “Fuck, you’re so wet already.”

The warm honey of her cunt saturated his fingers as he embedded them in her, a shallow push to begin with, nudging her sweet spot, gliding them in further with a sumptuous rotation that had her clenching around them, his mouth finding hers as they panted and moaned into urgent, feverish kisses.

With his free hand, he undid his pants, Jade assisting by yanking them down his thighs for him to somewhat awkwardly wriggle out of and kick off, pulling his t shirt off. Moving his hand, he then impaled her on his hardness fully, teeth sharp at her neck, her cry filling the air. “Not that I don’t love being stretched wide around it, but this isn’t getting your cock sucked, is it?”

He rumbled a chuckle, kissing her again. “Tell you what, I’ll make you come first, then blow my load right down your throat. How about that?”

“Mmm,” she purred, “can’t wait for you to make me choke on it.” Their mouths crashed together, the rocking of his hips against her sending darts of pleasure as he hit her clit every time, her grinding down on him sending further streaks of bliss that ignited the embers flickering to full burn.

"Oh god, fuck, oh!" she cried, feeling him shift forward, grasping her legs. She moved them, crossing them behind him, the move allowing her to sink down further upon him, his cock hitting her deep as their bodies rocked together ferally. Each press of him right up against her summit had neon bursts radiating within her, crying out as she clasped herself around him, sucking his tongue, staring into the sunlit, moss green of his eyes. "Fuck, I love you."

Those words never failed to make his heart thunder harder, conveying the same in how he kissed her, standing to carry her to the back door, her body pressed against the glass, pinned there by his chest as he moved his hands, gripping her thighs and holding her spread, beginning to fuck up into her with savage need.

The heavy pressure of his cock was a sharp-edged pleasure, her body banging against the glass she was pressed into, the raw, primal need of it suffusing down to her marrow. Oh, when the horny sexy demon in him came out to play, how he brought the fire with him. The warm wet of her clamped around him strongly, each thrust pounded into her harder to fight the tension gripping onto his cock, his groans all earth and salt as he buried his mouth against her neck.

The continued deep, rapid spearing of his cock into her had the pleasure pooling golden, her thighs tightening upon his waist, hips rolling against him as she cried out like a wounded animal, the lightning arcing through her, the release pulsating up her spine. With his own fluttering at the base of his cock, he pulled from her, carrying her back to the couch, hands entwining in her hair as she took him in her mouth and let him fuck the plush of her squeezing lips, until with a gritted groan he filled her throat with cum.

What began as a day of construction and petty yelling ended in a naked evening, neither bothering to dress, lying together on the couch outside drinking beers and relaxing under the warm, spring sun. A state of relax was how they spent their last two days together, Jade kissing him goodbye at the airport, dashing home again feeling a little sad for him leaving for nine weeks. It didn’t matter how used to it she was, she loved being near her husband.

Having the house to herself was nice, though, continuing her daily workouts in order to remain ripped enough to easily pass off as a nineteen seventies Cher, with how lean her body was back then, the project ever drawing nearer. The week before she was due to depart, she had a house guest come to stay in the form of Katie, a little lonely herself since Charlotte was on tour with Crimson Shrines, the death metal side project band she played in.

“Bro, this is so ready for chickens!” the lady herself spoke, she and Jade standing back to admire the project they’d teamed together to complete. The latter was going to complete it with her husband, but wanted to spend some time of greater quality with him in his remaining days before he’d left.

“It is, my friend. It is. Shame there won’t be any in it for a couple of months, unless Adrien decides to buy some while I’m gone,” she mused, opening the gate as they headed back towards the house. “Oh! I almost forgot to say, I have a package coming at any time, but I have to take Atlas and Bear to the vets for their jabs. Can you be around to hear the bell instead of outside?”

“Sure can, baby. I was planning on playing cook tonight anyways,” she spoke, Jade spinning to grasp her arms.

“Please tell me you’re making your chicken teriyaki burgers!” Anyone who’d ever eaten one of Katie’s famous creations would understand the urgency. They were beyond delicious.

“Can confirm, I am making my chicken teriyaki burgers. Where’s your charcoal at, gonna barbecue ‘em, they always taste better that way. And don’t make that face! I texted Adrien to ask if I could use it and he said yes, just to keep you well away from it!”

Jade pouted, remembering the incident that had almost led to their very expensive, Big Green Egg barbecue overheating, Jade lighting it but not opening the vent. Her husband had gone berserk and banned her from going anywhere near it in the wake of almost trashing it. “Fine. I’ll make salad.”

Wrapping her arm around her shoulders, Katie kissed her cheek. “That’s a good lil’ woman.” A hard slap greeted her backside for that comment, laughing and bending over. “Ooooh, gimme another! You spank way harder than Charlotte!”

“Get in the damned house, you bloody menace!”

While Katie began her dinner prep, Jade got her two biggest dogs into the harnesses, kissing her friend goodbye and picking up her keys and bag. Opening the rear of her Jeep, the hounds jumped in, Jade affixing them in safely and shutting the door, throwing her bag onto the passenger seat. She loved living somewhere where she could do that and not worry about anybody smashing her window to steal it.

Selecting an album to listen to, she placed her cell phone into the cup holder and reversed out, driving around to the front of the house and down the long drive, noticing how full all the trees lining it were beginning to look. The new ones she’d planted a year before were budding nicely, too, still supported by long bamboo canes to assist in their fledgling stages.

Slowing her car, she pressed the fob to open the electric gates, looking back in the rear view at the trees again. She wondered where she’d be in life when they’d finally reached a significant height, driving through the gateway slowly, about to pull out of her drive when she heard something hit the back of her car.

“Is that one of you fat headed buggers?” she muttered, turning to look at her dogs, see which one of them had decided to bang their face against the window. Neither had, both growling at the source of the noise as the baseball bat was swung again, chaotic barking following as the window cracked, Serena swinging it again and this time shattering the glass completely.

“Get out here or I’ll fucking kill your dogs, Jade! Get out of this car now!”

Her mouth dropped open, her limbs already feeling light and tingly, her stomach plummeting like she’d swallowed a led weight. Now was not the time to wonder how on earth her stalker had escaped a treatment facility, Jade grabbing her phone and calling nine one one, asking for the police and giving her address, trembling as she did. She was advised by the operator to stay in the car, but as Serena continued, she knew that wasn’t possible, the rear windscreen beginning to crack.

There was no way she was risking the safety of her dogs, big and ferocious as they were, even a mastiff would be lucky to survive a crack to the skull with a baseball bat. With adrenaline coursing through her, she cut the engine, jumping from the car and storming to the rear of the vehicle.

“You fucking dare threaten my bloody dogs, you fucking psychopath!” she bellowed, that famous roar she was known for gravelling her voice. “You want some? Come fucking get it.” Striding for her, Jade remembered her fight training from one of the last movies she’d done, having to accurately portray a hard as nails mercenary. She wasn’t a fighter in reality, not at all, but when presented with the animals she thought of as her babies coming under attack, the protector came out.

Serena screamed in all-out rage, swinging the bat, Jade ducking, her leg shooting out to round kick her in the thigh. The move knocked her aggressor off balance, the bat grabbed, the women wrestling one another for supremacy, Jade towing her near enough to throw her forehead straight into her nose, the bone breaking with a sickening crack, wrenching the bat from her grasp and hurling it as far away as she could throw.

A melee followed, Jade punched in the eye, reaching for Serena’s hair and slamming her head off the back of the Jeep, the dogs still barking furiously within. “Stay away from me, you sick fuck!” she roared, smashing her head against the taillight again, Serena suddenly lurching forward.

“Fuck you, fuck you!”

She felt it hit her side, something sharp and cold, again and again, the pain like cold fire burning as with both hands, she made one last valiant effort, hurling Serena’s head so hard into the Jeep, blood exploded over the paintwork, finally going limp as Jade threw her to the ground. Looking at her side, the horror of her damage was evident, her grey t shirt and blue jeans becoming soaked in blood, sirens wailing in the distance as she fell to the ground.

Her dogs barking.

A copper taste filling her mouth as she wheezed.

A tall, handsome police officer calling for immediate backup and an ambulance on his radio, his voice telling her to stay with him as he applied pressure to her wounds.

A puddle of blood pouring from her side.

Her eyes fluttered, heavy, coldness dragging at her, luring, beckoning.

Black.

Lights in her eyes, people shouting stats at one another, motion, another bright light. Sirens wailing. “Thirty-four-year-old female, multiple stab wounds...”

Black.

Light, bright light.

Pain.

Shouting.

Nothing.

Black.

#adrien brody fanfiction #adrien brody fanfic #adrein brody fic #adrien bridy smut #adrien brody #sky full of stars #adrien and jade

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triviareads · 5 months ago

Text

ARC Review of Not Another Love Song by Julie Soto

Rating: 4.25/5 Heat Level: 3.5/5 Publication Date: July 16th

Premise:

Violinist Gwen Jackson is chosen as Manhattan Pop's new first chair over Xander Throne, a cellist from an famous musical family. Though Xander is initially hostile, the attraction is undeniable as they begin to collaborate with each other.

My review:

The sensual violin-cello romance of my DREAMS! Not Another Love Song is the perfect combination of classical roots and a contemporary setting and plot; Julie Soto made the choice to have neither Gwen nor Xander super tied down by the conventional classical music world; both of them play for a pops orchestra rather than a more traditional ensemble, and Xander is cellist in an electric strings band that sounds somewhat similar to 2CELLOS (is Xander Thorne the Hauser of this world? Possibly). They're creatives who push boundaries, and it serves their romance really well because they play with the music, and it's the music that's the bedrock of their relationship: there's flirting via sheet music, their first duet in public is rife with sexual tension (in their world, it's basically an invitation to slow dance), and a large portion of the book is centered around one composition in progress that encapsulates Alex and Gwen's relationship.

So, this story was originally published as Reylo fanfiction and you do see the influence; Gwen is a scrappy underdog heroine— an orphan, slightly naive and insecure, but of course Xander and other characters see *something great* in her even when she can't. She isn't a pushover though, and by the end she stands her ground at a critical juncture in her and Xander's relationship. Xander a bit of an asshole to Gwen despite almost IMMEDIATELY falling for her, and it understandably takes her some time to warm up to him. Like, she's starstruck to an extent and obviously physically attracted (and not just because he's biiiiig like any Kylo Ren-inspired hero has to be— I don't make the rules sorry), but she quickly understands he's.... quite flawed so he doesn't stay on that pedestal for long. He's the one with the family baggage, mommy issues, and difficulties stemming from being a young prodigy, as well as a history of being taken advantage of by the adults and mentors around him. And that's something that carries over into the plot of this story— both Gwen and Xander are relatively young (they're both in their twenties), and still in the process of finding out who they are as individuals and artists as well as a couple, and they both struggle to figure out who they can trust professionally (ex: there's a very accurate Scooter Braun reference somewhere in this book) and personally.

The sex:

I mean look, what you see happening on the cover? That's exactly what we get in the book ("You have to be gentle with her neck"???? I SCREAMED because, you know, cello neck.... her neck....). And it's hotter because Xander does his utmost to remind Gwen of it via his composition in some very public forums afterwards... multiple times. It's sensual, and shockingly romantic real fast. AND there is also a very hot sex-while-someone's-on-the-phone moment.

Overall:

As far as contemporary romances go, Julie Soto is doing the utmost to make classical music sexy again— and the love story itself is enhanced by that in such a novel way, and I can't recommend this book enough, preferably with your favorite rendition of Vitali's Chaconne in G Minor playing background.

Thank you to Forever and NetGalley for an advanced copy of this book in exchange for my honest review.

#arc #arc review #netgalley #julie soto #contemporary romance #grand central publishing #romance novel #romance novels

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mermaidsirennikita · 1 year ago

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Sorry but i need to hear more about Adam Driver Face and Adam Driver Body in romance novels and possibly how this pertains to Forget Me Not by Julie Soto.

Lol this is a hot take so I'm gonna publish it

I know that for some reason being attracted to Adam Driver is Controversial, and indeed a lot of Reylo fic authors flipping into romance is Controversial... It shouldn't be. Aside from Big Deal Ship Writers flipping into romance writers being a tale as old as time, ESPECIALLY post-Twilight (lots of authors who've been successful for quite a while now are former Twific authors--EL James is just, unfortunately, the biggest name), the concept of an Adam Driver-shaped man as a romance hero is so... obviously something that fits.

Because I'm gonna tell you right fucking now, lol--while Henry Cavill is the dude everyone and their mom fancasts for every. white. romance hero. ever (and plenty of romance heroes who aren't white but everyone just ignores that) I would argue that a lot of authors had Adam Driver-shaped guys in mind. Not Adam Driver, necessarily. I imagine a lot of writers do not have actors in mind at all when the y write (I don't). But someone who is closer to Adam Driver than Henry Cavill.

Why? Because romance heroes, at the end of the day, are often not men who jive with the concept of typical actors, ESPECIALLY not today (because white actors today have become incredibly homogenous in terms of looks, and additionally currently trend more towards a very youthful, softer look, which is fine but is not what romance heroes have been in the past and honestly... even post-cinnamon roll, largely are in the present). A lot of romance heroes in books that aren't like, pumped out with zero thought (because there are those) are not described as like, the most beautiful guy in the room. There's a reason why we love the scarred hero, right? Romance heroes owe their roots more to men like Mr. Rochester--guys who are often NOT conventionally hot, but ARE incredibly compelling.

Like, of course you have your Sebastian St. Vincents, the guys who are incandescently hot (Sebastian St. Vincent has Jude Law Face and Jude Law Body, LOOK AT WHEN THE BOOK WAS WRITTEN AND KNOW IT IN YOUR HEART). But many more heroes, especially in again, well-written romances, are more like Derek Craven, who's described as having a fuckton of presence, a fuckton of sexuality, but as often being "almost handsome", with snaggle teeth and a general "coarseness".

Which makes sense, right? Because, to this day, and I'm not saying this is a good thing, m/f romance heroes are meant to contrast to their heroines. And their heroines are often, if not hyperfeminine, then still the feminine presence in the room. Even in books like Knockout where the heroine is not this small delicate flower--in some ways, it's often even more important for the hero to contrast to her. Because a heroine like Imogen wants a man who supports and accepts her, but also makes her feel like she is something to be cherished and protected. Tommy being someone who can pick her up and gather her in his arms appeals to her. And I think that is something that every woman, regardless of her size or her preference in men's appearances, can relate to.

Also, a lot of romance authors are trickling down from older generations of romance authors. While those authors did not have an Adam Driver lol, they did have this preference towards the massive guy who Isn't Handsome But He's Got Somethin'. And so, the romance authors who grew up on that still want that. I know that the fetishized Big Hero has been a hot topic as of late... If I'm being real, I don't think he's going anywhere. There will be more space for heroes who are not like that, but it's a personal preference thing, and a lot of authors (and readers) do like to read about that. I don't know that that's a bad.... thing.

So when you look at actors today who fit that--this big guy with a big body that nonetheless doesn't seem immediately like a gym body (though it is, lol, I think he's just perhaps better at building muscle from... working out... versus steroids.... because the roles he takes do not require roid-level muscle, for one thing) and a face that seems like it could take a beating and he wouldn't go "not my face"--there are very few aside from Adam Driver. Like, in reality, Geralt should have a nose that's broken 58 different ways, but aside from magic, he's Henry Cavill and Henry Cavill isn't gonna get his face legit fucked up. Because Adam Driver is not "pretty" in any way, I think he reads as a different type of masculine to those that appreciate his appearance, and that kind of masculine translates to romance heroes very easily. And Adam Driver Body just is Big Man Romance Hero Body, because, sorry, he's got a very good body and even if you don't like his face I think that's just. A fact lol. If you don't like tall broad fit guys that's fine, but he's clearly a very fit, physical person and he's a very physical actor which makes this more noticeable.

But I would say that ALL OF THIS comes across in a larger way because very fewer actors right now look like him. Not just in his unconventional (I mean is it tho... or are we just so used to homogeny in actors that it seemed unconventional today... I'm gonna tell y'all right now, everyone and their mom was into Alan Rickman when I was growing up, and I GET IT... it's the same motherfucking look lol) face, but in his general appearance. He seems BIGGER because he's actually an actor who's broad and 6'3"; a lot of taller actors are slimmer, on that very obvious 'roid muscle which doesn't translate in the same sense, or are NOT. ACTUALLY. THAT TALL LOL. and lie about their height. So he seems bigger in contrast.

But then there's the Adam Driver Vibe, which, especially post-Reylo, is something I think appeals to romance writers even more and that is what you see in Forget Me Not (a book written by a Reylo fic writer, which I enjoyed quite a bit). The hero in that book is such a good example of an Adam Driver-coded hero. And let's be clear, I have no idea what the man is like in his real life. He barely talks to the press, and by God I hope he keeps it that way. But because he doesn't talk to the press, people assume quiet; because when he does, he seems to be a pretty nice guy and seems to get along with his costars just fine, people assume nice; they assume things based on him being with the same woman since college, etc. Romance people package this into a hero type that has been around for a long time, but they can now plaster onto the Adam Driver Vibe. The guy who is kinda quiet and gruff but actually sweet, who will fix your car without a word while thinking that you're kind of a FUCKING IDIOT for not getting your car fixed earlier, but it's only because he actually loves you and just doesn't want you to get hurt, and he's not an asshole about it, he just tenses so that you can see the corded muscles in his forearms and speaks in a tight voice about how you REALLY need to TAKE THIS INTO THE SHOP more OFTEN.

But why would you, because he's competent and does man stuff more? (Even though Adam Driver, as far as I know, lives in a very nice home in Brooklyn and loves traveling to Italy which is why he does as many movies in Italy as possible, people think of him as very 'salt of the Earth homegrown' because Midwest and because we don't see him acting like a Typical Actor in interviews, and this sticks onto his romance descendants as well). It's the sense of competence that people want, and you see that a lot in Forget Me Not. Quiet, so we can assume from the quietness that he's yearning and longing (which he is). Competent, annoyed but only because he cares too much.

And, of course, he can throw the heroine around in bed, which is something I think people project onto Adam Driver because a lot of the bigness is really connected to this concept in the first place... But also because he has done a good amount of sex scenes, unlike a LOT of actors of his caliber in this day and age, and for that matter a lot of PRETTIER actors around his gen, because actors like Chris Evans and Hemsworth got locked into Marvel contracts early and don't do sex. Adam Driver was fuckin' in House of Gucci and that was pretty recent lol. I think that the fact that you do see him in this context makes a difference. Also, while not every sex scene... not many sex scenes... in Girls were hot, he did do a lot of that shit, and though I hate Lena Dunham with all my soul, I would theorize that the fact that you not only saw him be sexual (in a simulated way) with a woman who was not thin by any means onscreen, picking her up and shit, made an impression. As did that scene where he bench-pressed Shiri Appleby, would recommend... tracking that down... if you have not...

Like, there are a lot of Adam Driver-coded heroes out there, and not all of them are Reylo heroes. I do not see Sworn to the Shadow God by Ruby Dixon a Reylo book (for one thing, the heroine is Latina). But the hero??? So Adam Driver-coded. He's big, his face is like, Kinda Weirdly Too Much But Also Hot, he's kinda quiet and awkward but by God he means well and he will make the heroine come 75 times if he's got anything to say about it. There are heroes who were written Before the Days of Adam Driver who still read more as that motherfucker than any other actor today (THE HERO FROM THE RAVEN PRINCE IS NOT HENRY CAVILL WITH SCARS SHUT UP).

It's not just a look, it is a vibe, and it is entirely this thing that everyone has made up and projected onto that man lol. Which is a lot easier to do with him than ANY other actor, because Adam Driver. Does not talk. Which--so many actors should just not talk. (But, and this is a petty thing so I'll say it--a lot of his peers do need to sell themselves based off personality and he generally doesn't because he's a legit good actor sorry sorry sorry.) However, him not talking kind of makes him the perfect romance hero projection figure. The less we know about him, the more we can Imagine. I know Henry Cavill has a thing for girls who are way too young for him, right? I don't know fuck all about Adam Driver's romantic life aside from him being married to Joanne a long time.

In conclusion, it's a whole deal not even just the body and the face, and it's not surprising to me that it's something that a lot of romance writers and readers have latched on to.

#romance novel blogging

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booasaur · 1 year ago

Note

Kristi's fiancee was originally supposed to be a man but Chloe was like, nope, Kristi's gonna have a woman fiancee. The show showed Kristi and Kenny's story in season 1 to make us root for them. I think whether Kristi's fiancee(e) was a man or woman, it was always going to end the same with Kristi and Kenny being the slow burn couple.

Ooo I have a theory! Remember when Kenny was telling Father K about how his dad wandered out of the house? And then Mama Liu got mad at her husband for doing that because he 'knows better' and then Kenny told her, "Mom, he has dementia. He's not trying to fucking piss you off."

I could potentially see Kristi opening a door or window when high and Kristi getting mad at her for it. But Mari isn't opening the door to piss her off, she's an addict. She needs help.

Oh, that's interesting, that it came from her. And it's a cool change, I'm always in favor of going away from the "default", as it were, but I think you still need to be mindful of what the changes represent.

Sadly too often, the new character's just there be a plot device, so then it kind of sucks that sometimes, for example, the only lesbian or Black character is there to be be an obstacle for someone else's romance. And it's not like they have to be the winner or whatever in every love triangle, but they should have their own agency and motivations. And you know, a well-written character should have their background reflected in them. It doesn't have to be in huge ways or all bad things or all good things, it's simply a fact of life that we go through different things. Like in San Junipero, a pretty famous recent example where the writer decided to switch to f/f, it wasn't simply a m/f romance now with two women, their sexualities were key parts of their stories.

Though, it's also important that Kenny's Asian and there still aren't many male Asian romantic leads. Heh, it always gets messy when different kinds of rep get pitched against each other (The 100 and Supergirl war flashbacks) but I guess I just want thoughtfulness in how it's done, either way. Nobody should be just a plot device, even the whitest straightest character! And indeed, a character who only appears in the second season to be killed is a bit hmm.

Having said that, it's been a few eps since you sent this in, and since then, I don't really know that Kristi/Kenny HAVE been framed as this inevitable love story, but I don't know if anyone on this show will even get that. Both because it's a horror and anyone can die, but you notice how it tends to go up and down on characterization from one week to the next, depending on what's needed. The calmest, most rational person will be an idiot and then vice versa, it could be that Kristi's totally focused on Mari right now, and then next season realizing she's in love with Kenny or whatever.

Sorry I waited so long to answer that we couldn't really discuss your theory about how Mari's addiction might affect things, but in last night's ep, that almost happened! She was close to opening a window!

Now, though, I wonder what'll happen. If she, Julie, and Randall are all being affected by this new thing, feels like next ep, the season finale, will be to rescue them. Julie's a main so I'd expect her to survive, but Mari and Randall are far more up in the air. :x

#replies #femslash related stuff #sent on 20230527 #Anonymous #5 #from epix #kristi x marielle #from spoilers #from 2x09 #I've seen people theorize that the mole theory isn't off entirely #just that it's not donna or boyd #people were thinking it might be randall but I think that's out now #they're fixated on tilly the older lady #but I'm also curious about the bus driver #that ain't no nursery rhyme -_-#it'd be funny if after all this donna IS the mole lol

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wondereads · 1 year ago

Text

July Wrap-Up

Reviews and thoughts under the cut

A Good Girl's Guide to Murder by Holly Jackson (10/10)

I've been interested in this book for a while, but I was finally prompted to read it by the TV show announcement. And I can definitely say I wasn't disappointed. If you watch any sort of procedural show, this will be right up your alley. I loved how the actual investigation was laid out with Pip's notes and diagrams in the book. It made me feel like I was solving the mystery right alongside her. The focus is definitely on the murder, but I still got a good sense of Pip's personal life and how her obsession with the case was affecting her and her relationships. I won't lie, one of the most anxiety-inducing parts was her college applications, but maybe that's just me. I managed to predict who the killer was, but the actual story behind the whole thing made my jaw drop. I can't wait to read the rest of the series and see the show!

Guardians of Dawn: Zhara by S. Jae-Jones (5/10)

This book is not irredeemable. The plot is unoriginal but not nonsensical or boring, the magic is super interesting, and Zhara has a lot of potential as a character. However, most of the characters are one-dimensional and uncompelling and the writing is...not good. The unending focus on the romance when there were so many other interesting things going on was so frustrating. And then there was the unashamed insertion of what is clearly meant to be BTS (yes, worldwide kpop sensation BTS) that completely destroyed my immersion. Also, the disability rep is pretty dubious. I was pretty disappointed by this read, which sucks because I think it had a lot of potential.

Half a Soul by Olivia Atwater (10/10)

This book is like if Pride & Prejudice and Howl's Moving Castle had a baby, and I ate it up. This book perfectly blended a historical romance with engaging fantasy elements. Dora is a wonderful main character; she's lovable and engaging while still have a completely unique personality that really makes her stand out amongst a lot of fantasy romance protagonists. The love interest is suitably snarky while still being respectful and kind, especially to Dora. Their interactions are fun while still being incredibly romantic. The plot works well with the romance and characters, culminating in a very satisfying ending. Finally, I really appreciate the ending for Dora's issue in particular; it works well for her character and is, in my opinion, in good taste. I highly recommend this book, especially if you're looking for a light, quick read!

The Assassin's Blade by Sarah J. Maas (6/10)

This book was one I just read to move on to the next book. I was told to read this one before Queen of Shadows, so I did. I did find some parts interesting, such as Celaena's time in the desert, and Arobynn Hamel has to be one of the most interesting characters in the whole series. However, I do wish this were an optional installment as it was kind of boring. It didn't feel like we got any insight into Celaena's character, rather just rehashes of what has appeared in previous books, and towards the end I was skimming. Also, I'm sorry, but Sam doesn't really hold any appeal for me. The romantic plotline was rushed and he was acting so weird towards the end.

The Stolen Heir by Holly Black (10/10)

I was so nervous; as the successor to Folk of the Air, The Stolen Heir had a lot to live up to, and it did. I absolutely adored Wren; she is a complex main character who is still easy to root for, and Black has continued to write amazing, unhinged female main characters. As in Folk of the Air, the use of faerie rules to trick the audience along with the characters is done very well, and there's some great foreshadowing in there. Concerning Oak, I'd seen a lot of people online saying he was a Cardan carbon copy, but I really don't see it. He's polite, considerate, and well-raised, but he also has a shocking capacity for violence, which is incredibly interesting. The twist at the end was amazing, particularly concerning Wren and Oak's relationship going forward, and I can't wait to read the second book!

Neverseen by Shannon Messenger (8/10)

I have now officially reread all of the KotLC books I got through previously. Going into Lodestar will be uncharted territory for me, and wow am I glad I refreshed my memory. I forgot a lot of stuff, so it was almost like I was reading it for the first time. Like I predicted, this was a slower one, mostly filled with finding out more about the Black Swan and the Council, and there was a lot of Sophie and her friends wanting to do things that were "too dangerous." I won't lie, it dragged a bit, but it really picked up once Sophie started attending Exilium. I think the twins are a much-needed addition to the main cast to help shake things up and keep the dynamic from getting too worn out. Also, Calla is a particularly strong side character. While I could predict the broad strokes of the story, the actual method of getting there took me by surprise, and there's a huge twist at the end that totally restructures how the rest of the series is going to look. I'm very excited to start Lodestar!

Clockwork Angel by Cassandra Clare (8/10)

While this book isn't perfect and is somewhat dated by its use of certain tropes and plot points, The Infernal Devices is without a doubt much better than The Mortal Instruments. It definitely has its similarities (the premise and mystery of birth behind the main characters are notably alike), but it has also really improved. Tessa, while still a little passive and nondescript in terms of character, isn't just a cookie cutter protagonist, and it's actually really interesting to see how the time period affects her opinions. The plot is kind of slow, but it's much less predictable and more imaginative. Also, TID probably has one of the best-written (and best-resolved in Clockwork Princess) love triangles in YA. Both Will and Jem have their own appeal, and they are distinct from one another while still being close in a unique way. I'm enjoying my reread so far!

Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir (10/10)

Oh, I just loved this book. Gideon is one of the best protagonists I've read in ages; she's snarky and stubborn and incredibly entertaining. Her dynamic with Harrow that is simultaneously filled with intense hatred and co-dependency is so interesting and provides all kinds of interpersonal tension not even factoring in the other Houses. Speaking of the other Houses, even if they aren't all the most likable, they are all strong characters in their own right and each bring something unique to the story. The worldbuilding, as is often said about this book, is a little confusing, but I actually really enjoyed it. It was like a puzzle to figure out, and it helped with the immersion so much since Gideon wasn't dwelling on explaining things she already knew. The plot, despite the characters being somewhat aimless for some periods, was never boring as tension between the characters kept things moving when they were stuck plot-wise. The twist at the end was amazing and shocking and horrifying, and I've already got Harrow checked out in my library.

Painted Scars by Neva Altaj (5/10)

I got this from KU on a whim since I wanted something I wouldn't really have to think about, something quick and easy, but I think it was far too quick. While I think the characters had some potential, everything in this book was way too fast, from the build of romantic feelings to the typical third act "break-up", if you could even call it that. For a book that was only 240 pages, it was trying to do way too much and really should've just focused on the romance.

The Poppy War by R. F. Kuang (10/10)

This book is pretty much perfect. The plot is engaging, the characters are all amazing, the writing style hits hard, and there’s really good social commentary that touches on, honestly, almost every issue out there. Rin has got to be one of my favorite protagonists of all time; she’s the underdog, she’s easy to root for, and our desire for her to succeed almost makes us overlook her glaring flaws. Kuang establishes Rin’s overwhelming need to succeed, to win, to be the last one standing from the very beginning, and it leads to her slow but steady downfall as she must decide how far she is willing to go for the sake of her nation. Rin’s time in Sinegard is an interesting and unique twist on the fantasy school setting, and the tone switch between the time at Sinegard and the time at war is done masterfully. Even the war takes an incredibly dark turn, goes farther than the reader would ever expect, as Kuang draws from real history to write horrors that should’ve been beyond anyone’s imagination. Perhaps the most technically amazing part of this book is that even when she has fallen so far, part of us agrees with Rin; which is the danger of it all, isn’t it?

Half Upon a Time by James Riley (8/10)

I loved this series as a kid, and rereading it was like returning home. It's actually so funny that this book has tons of tropes I love today just in a middle grade format. There's a pretty good level of intricacy to the plot, and the fairy tale elements are tons of fun. There are plenty of familiar characters that each have a unique twist to their story, often intertwining their stories with each other. For example, the Huntsman from Snow White is also the woodcutter/hunter from Little Red Riding Hood. This book also has a fun twist by being from the perspective of the character who guides someone who has fallen into another world. In most other books, May would be the main character, so having Jack tell the story subverts some expectations. The way Jack, May, and Philip interact is a little typical for the genre and time period, though I appreciate that it is heavily implied that Philip has no romantic interest in May. Finally, Jack's mysterious involvement with the Eye and his sword is one of my favorite parts of the book, and it's a pretty fresh concept.

Wild Magic by Tamora Pierce (9/10)

The reread of the Tortall books continues! I actually don't remember Wild Magic and Wolf Speaker all that well (unlike Emperor Mage, which I reread many many times), so this was a lovely trip of rediscovery. I think this may just be a side effect of Pierce's writing style, but Daine seems way older than thirteen. If I had to guess just based on how she acts, I'd guess closer to fifteen/sixteen. Regardless, she's a very fun main character and a little funny in that she's practically the only Pierce MC to advocate for politeness and etiquette. Her relationship with Cloud is a great one, very sibling-like, and I love how she gets closer to particularly Onua and Numair. The plot is interesting but, for me who has a lot of emotional connection to the series, is ultimately overshadowed by the characters.

Piranesi by Susanna Clarke (DNF @ 35%)

While I found the world of this book incredibly interesting and fairly unique, it was just boring. Literally nothing happened for all of parts one and two, and when something finally did happen it wasn't nearly interesting enough to make me want to continue. I know this book receives high praise, and I may come back to it some day, but my copy was due in the library and it didn't intrigue me enough to renew it.

The Lost Siren by Raven Storm (3/10, DNF @ 56%)

This was an interesting idea for a fantasy romance, but I hated most of the love interests and romantic/spicy scenes were just not good. There was very little chemistry between the main character and most of the love interests, and the constant threat of violence/sexual assault against in the main character totally turned me off. I got past the halfway mark, which is my threshold for a rating.

BONUS

Strange the Dreamer by Laini Taylor (CR, 27%)

I'm liking this book so far, but I'm getting a very precarious sense as I read it. The setup is done in a way that means very small details could ruin it for me, but so far this book is dodging them like a pro. It's been a while since I read a male main character, but I really like Lazlo! It's incredibly easy to be on his side, and I love that he's soft-spoken and academically focused. I'm not sure how I feel about the introduction of a whole new major POV with a new host of characters 20% of the way into the book, especially since I was under the impression this would be single POV, but it hasn't been too bad so far.

Harrow the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir (CR, 13%)

Similar to Gideon, this book is incredibly confusing, and I'm enjoying it. Harrow is a very different character and narrator from Gideon, and I feel like her sort of stagnancy is a pretty good depiction of depression. What I find most interesting is what appears to be this memory rewrite Harrow has gone through. She seems to have lost a lot of her memories from the first book and just after it, and it seems everyone knows what happened then except her. How interesting...

#books #wrap up #agggtm #half a soul #tog #the stolen heir #holly black #kotlc #the infernal devices #gideon the ninth #tlt #the poppy war #half upon a time #the immortals quartet

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marlynnofmany · 2 years ago

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I posted 1,872 times in 2022

239 posts created (13%)

1,633 posts reblogged (87%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@quousque

@prideandpen

@flaming-shapeshifter

@nitewrighter

@marlynnofmany

I tagged 1,870 of my posts in 2022

#writing prompts - 183 posts

#humans are weird - 94 posts

#writer life - 86 posts

#art - 83 posts

#dracula daily - 83 posts

#worldbuilding - 69 posts

#aliens - 62 posts

#vampires - 61 posts

#robots - 53 posts

#magic - 50 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#i will never run out of ideas for fictional species when there are things like this just bopping around like everything is perfectly normal

My Top Posts in 2022:

“WHY did that alien ambassador just call me ‘peasant’??”

“Sorry, sorry, it’s a problem with the translation software.”

“What kind of problem? Am I about to insult him by accident too? I want it to be on purpose.”

“No, it’s just that the software had trouble with root words and etymology, comparing our concepts to theirs. They don’t have a word for ‘god,’ you see, and—”

“What the blazes does that have to do with it?”

“Look. The word ‘human’ can be translated as ‘person who lives on the ground, or the dirt, or the Earth, and who isn’t a god.’”

“So how did that—”

“It turned into ‘person who lives in the dirt and has no power over others.’ The closest they had when repeating it back through the translator was ‘peasant.’”

“That is the stupidest thing I’ve heard all week.”

“Why do you think I’ve been pressing for everyone to actually learn the language, instead of relying on the translator?”

“Well, if I make it through this meet-and-greet without having to throw or take a punch, I might take you up on that. Stick close. If somebody says something else dumb, I’m turning to you.”

“Don’t look now; the ambassador’s coming back.”

“Great.”

6,633 notes - Posted September 2, 2022

A friend of mine had this idea, and I’d love to see it in an urban fantasy: magic is real and it stays secret because it looks like bad CGI. The fakest thing ever.

People who witness magic in person can always have their minds clouded, as they have been for most of human history, but all this newfangled technology has to be handled a different way. A video camera records exactly what it sees.

So, what it sees is … something that looks laughably fake. For any time period. The various secret magicians of the world make a point to keep their spells up to date with the current mundane trends — some of them even have running contests for who can make the most fake-looking spell.

I imagine they have a great time doing it. I sure would.

7,534 notes - Posted June 27, 2022

Is anyone else more entertained than they should be by the vintage 1990′s straight-to-VHS, home shopping network aesthetic of the pinned ad for “Tumblr Ad-Free Browsing”?

Staff 1: “We should advertise this.”

Staff 2: “I can put together something slick and modern.”

Staff 1: “Are you new here? They’d hate that with the power of a thousand suns. No, our only options are retro tackiness or off-the-wall bonkers.”

Staff 2: “I don’t have any ideas for bonkers.”

Staff 1: “Retro it is.”

23,622 notes - Posted March 1, 2022

Have you heard about mole genders?

See the full post

35,503 notes - Posted July 14, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

*giant wind gust outside*

Me: “Don’t say it.”

My Brain:

154,365 notes - Posted April 11, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#year in review #life on Tumblr #long post #thankfully it auto-shortened the mole one #'I heard you like long posts so I put a long post in your long post and also this tag'#anyways yay #I had some fun posts this year #and of course the Wimdy Fox #aka the post that predicts the weather in reverse #'the notifications are telling me that the weather in Chicago just got extra gusty'#fascinating #on to next year!

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supernutellastuff · 2 years ago

Text

I posted 315 times in 2022

7 posts created (2%)

308 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@taralkariel

@xue-mei

@leafy-m

@missmorwen

@austennerdita2533

I tagged 204 of my posts in 2022

Only 35% of my posts had no tags

#me irl - 23 posts

#buckynat - 14 posts

#klaroline - 10 posts

#fanart - 8 posts

#i love tumblr - 8 posts

#politics - 7 posts

#mcu - 7 posts

#seriously - 6 posts

#just human things - 6 posts

#art - 6 posts

Longest Tag: 94 characters

#the scariest point was about not being able to digest my favourite food sometime in the future

My Top Posts in 2022:

Tag game!

Tagged by the amazing @diaz-eddie

Favourite colour - funny because I recently had a very in depth discussion about this with a friend, but anything in the blue-green family

Currently reading - I'm rereading The Glass Hotel by Emily St. John Mandel in preparation for her new novel The Sea of Tranquility (btw her Station Eleven remains one of my fav all timers, esp during the pandemic)

Sweet/salty/spicy/bitter/sour - spicy any day, though I do like sour as well

Last song - 2 AM by Lykke Li & Mark Ronson, also Nothing Breaks like a Heart by Miley Cyrus & Mark Ronson (these songs hit them feels like nothing else)

Last movie - Everything everywhere all at once (such an original movie)

Currently working on - it's supposed to be the second chapter of my Picturesque prequel but alas I have a presentation for work 😭

Tagging @recyclingss @xue-mei @mallosoar @taralkariel @missmorwen @highgaarden and anyone else who wants to play!

10 notes - Posted July 7, 2022

Ok so I’m in early season 4. I’ve always really liked Bonnie, but she never gets anything to do and when she does it’s always just “here’s a random guy for you to have a relationship with and that will be your story for a while” (her and Jeremy 🤮) and it’s never interesting (although I wouldn’t mind if they went anywhere at all with her and Damon tbh).

I also very much like Damon, by far the better brother. I really don’t care about anything Elena-related anymore and I think it’s mostly because they’ve played everything out with her several times through already. Also sorry to Nina Dobrev but she’s not a great actor and I’ve kinda had it with the character by now. The less said about Stefan the better. Jeremy and Tyler too.

Now that I’m several seasons in though it really is feeling like they’re stretching for content. The world and season threats got too big and they have no idea how to stop the power creep so they just keep adding stuff that totally breaks established lore. One of the things I love about Caroline is how well she grounded the story (sure she’s a vampire but she’s also still really into regular high school drama and trying to be a normal person still).

(Also sorry for sending anon before. I didn’t realize I’d clicked that until it had sent)

Hello!! It's been a long time since I watched the show so I apologise in advance for any inadvertent spoilers or vague plot recall.

Okay so Bonnie has legit been done the dirtiest even though she's one of the coolest characters. I like some of her plot lines where her witch roots means she's actively opposed to the vampires but she still wants to be on Elena's side, the conflict could have been interesting but it's never mined deeper. I hate her and Jeremy too and I agree that she and Damon have some legit chemistry (explored in further seasons, so you do have something to look forward to!)

Yeah Elena is annoying, and I got tired quickly about how everything was always about her. I'm not sure if I prefer Damon over Stefan, but Stelena is defs more boring. I prefer Stefan as a stand alone character or his friendship dynamic with Lexi, Caroline etc (more on this later).

I agree with you that the world building gets bigger than the writers can handle, but I really enjoyed the cure storyline in s4. I'm in the minority, but I really liked how there are all these factions with their own agendas competing to get the cure, and well, i always like it when the Originals have to team up with the Mystic Falls gang.

Talking about the Originals, I think they're the best thing the show has ever done. The casting, the acting, the group dynamics, the lore, the integration with the core tvd group... Perfection. What do you think? Who's your favourite Original?

Yes, Caroline is such a breath of fresh air in the show. I absolutely love how she's one of the few characters who actually LOVES being a vampire. I related to her even before she turned, when she was talking about being second choice "no matter how much I do, its never enough". She's thriving as a vampire as well as retaining her connection to her human side, without any of the angsty brooding that Stefan and all do. One of the reasons I love Klaroline is that Klaus is the ONLY one who recognises this, that she wants a life bigger and better than this. He accepts her as she is, and I just looove how much he changes throughout the course of knowing her, how he consistently puts her first. Sigh. I can go on and on about Klaroline. They have such epic moments, my god. What have been your favourite scenes??

10 notes - Posted July 5, 2022

[bernie sanders voice] I am once again asking for more of Chronicles

Aaaahhh Hahaha! I will always always appreciate your constant cheerleading for Chronicle 💜 unfortunately I don't have any plans to continue the story, it had a natural end. What I *am* working on rn is the Klaus POV prequel to Picturesque! You might be interested in that :) anyway, thanks for this message and can I just tell you (again) how much joy your fics and writing have given me??? 🥺

12 notes - Posted January 11, 2022

running like water - a Zutara oneshot

AU Post-finale, that time when an assassin crashes Zuko's 18th birthday. Luckily he has a master waterbender by his side. Ft. a badass Katara, Fire Nation political intrigue, and Bloodbending as flirting.

(Realised I'd written this years ago but never posted. Hopefully this gives me some much-needed inspiration while I muddle through my WIPs. Happy reading!)

link on ao3

Or read below!

It’s Zuko’s 18th birthday and he is nowhere to be found. By all accounts, he’d made an appearance at the Royal Ball for a respectable amount of time and then disappeared into thin air. Katara hurries across the halls of the palace, one hand gathering the skirts of her formal gown, her heels clicking on the marble floor. The palace staff haven’t seen him either—he wasn’t in his bedchambers, nor in the library, and she’d even checked under the willow tree next to the turtleduck pond. Katara fumes, her annoyance rising. She’s laboured over his gift for days, the least he could do is not get kidnapped or whatever.

It’s nearing midnight and Katara is about to contemplate hiring the services of Jun and her shirshu when she remembers the one place she hadn’t yet searched: the rooftop. While the rooftop was largely inaccessible, owing to its steep pagoda architecture, there was a flat alcove, hidden to the public, that opened up to the sky. Zuko had shown it to her a while ago when he was making plans for renovation, but it was dirty and in disrepair then, which is why it had slipped her mind.

The entrance to the roof is hidden behind a tapestry, a rather heavy, ugly thing the colour of blood. Katara twitches the tapestry aside and slips behind it. A narrow spiral staircase stands in front of her, illuminated by a hanging dusty lantern. Clutching the wrought iron railings, she begins the dizzying climb. An unexpected sight greets her at the top.

The place has been transformed into a charming rooftop garden. Vines climb the walls and trail down the parapet. Rows of potted herbs are flanked by beds of exotic flowers, the spicy and sweet scents intermingling in interesting ways. Fat beeswax candles stuck on iron stands are placed strategically in recesses, giving the entire garden a low, atmospheric lighting. And lounging on a profusion of cushions, eyes shut, his top knot undone, is Zuko.

“Took you long enough,” he says lazily, cranking one eye open.

“Happy Birthday,” Katara snaps, flinging the wrapped parcel at his stomach with a little too much force.

Zuko straightens immediately. “What is this?”

“Your present, dummy. I’ve been running around everywhere looking for you.”

He frowns. “Didn’t Oromi deliver you the message?”

“What message?” she asks, sinking into a cushion beside him.

“He must have misplaced the note again.” Oromi was the new palace gardener, a country lad, kind-hearted but rather forgetful. He was a magician at his work, though—he could make the stubbornest of saplings sprout and the most exotic flowers bloom under his care, almost like he was bending them. This little rooftop garden seems to be his doing. “I wrote you a message asking you to meet me here. I could not stand all those dreadful festivities.”

“Yes, yes what a bore having people throwing grand parties in your honour.”

A sheepish smile spread across his face. “I appreciate it all, I really do.”

“The royal cooks roasted an entire hippo-ox in your honour.”

“And I savoured every bite of it…but it exhausts me, having to put on this stern, aloof, regal front.” He does look exhausted, there are lines around his eyes that have no business being there. He also looks older; the planes of his face have sharpened and there’s stubble on his face on days he has no official business. “I hate pretending to be someone I’m not, especially on my birthday, when I’d rather spend time with the people I like.” His eyes flicker to her and her stomach flips.

Clearing her throat, Katara gestures to the package lying in his lap. “Open your gift.”

Zuko picks up the gift, examining it from every angle. Katara watches him carefully as his deft fingers unwrap the parcel, untying the strings and peeling off the layers. Nestled in the folds is a stack of small, unassuming-looking, semi-circular cakes.

“It’s a mooncake,” says Katara hurriedly. “A traditional Water Tribe recipe. Probably not a very special gift but my mom used to make them for birthdays-”

Zuko is already digging into the stack. He takes a bite, makes a sound of appreciation, and polishes off the whole cake. “Is there fruit jam inside?!” he asks in delight, mouth full. He offers a cake to her and picks another for himself.

“Yes!” She grins. “Salmonberry jam. I spent days in the palace kitchen, trying to get the thickness of the filling right. It needs to be the right amount of oozy…”

The words die on her tongue. Zuko is licking the jam off his fingers. She puts down her cake, suddenly very flustered.

Zuko looks up as she falls silent. Their eyes meet and the moment holds still. They’ve been dancing around each other for the past two years, longer than that, if she’s honest. Lingering looks, not-so-accidental touches, charged banter…she’s been noticing it more in their interactions lately, whether it’s quiet picnics beside the turtleduck pond or heated fights during state meetings. And now this connection, whatever it may be, is threatening to make itself known in very real ways. Katara has half a mind to brush off the moment with a flippant remark.

It’s Zuko who breaks the silence. “You look beautiful, by the way,” he comments. She’s wearing a traditional Fire Nation gown, richly embroidered in threads of red and gold, but her hair—

“Your hair is braided Water Tribe style. It looks good on you.”

She smiles, fighting off a blush. “Thank you.”

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29 notes - Posted October 23, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Longing - a Picturesque prequel (Klaroline fanfiction)

Hellooo, the Picturesque prequel from Klaus's POV is finally here!

Longing

Summary: Klaus likes his life, mostly. He has his own flat in New York City, a great group of friends, a budding career as an artist, but as he's navigating all the ups and downs the city throws at him, he realises that he's longing for something more. Or rather, someone.

[The long-awaited prequel to Picturesque! As promised, this is from Klaus's POV and tells the story of how in the process of figuring out who he wants to be, he's more and more drawn towards Caroline. Too bad she doesn't think of him as anything other than a friend...]

I cannot believe how long this took! Writing from Klaus's POV was challenging, and I felt like my writing style had changed in the years since I wrote Picturesque. Anyway, here's my labour of love, hope you like it! This will be a two-parter, the second chapter will be up next week. To new readers, this is a prequel to Picturesque so PLEASE read that fic before this! You'll enjoy this fic better *after* reading Picturesque. While chronologically/plot-wise Longing comes first, I feel like from the progression of my writing style and the work I've put in the characterisations, it makes more sense to read Longing after Picturesque. Also, if you're a familiar reader, I'd still suggest you read Picturesque, just to brush up (I've made some slight edits for continuity, especially in the last chapter)

For @recyclingss who's always been such a tireless cheerleader <3

Read Longing here - https://archiveofourown.org/works/38565495

33 notes - Posted May 17, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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theselightsareblinding · 1 year ago

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Currently watching (june 2023)

(only thai dramas right now)

Be my favorite (ep5)

I started getting interested in this series when they announced the cast change, mostly for the drama. Then when the actual trailer aired I was like uhhh this could go very badly or turn out quite good, and at episode 5 I think we're going to get the second option. But I loved Vice Versa's first episodes and then it stopped making sense so I'm not 100% confident yet. This being said, I'm enjoying it a lot, both Gawin and Krist are doing an excellent job so far, all the characters have unique personalities and development, it has beautiful reflections about life and personal relationships. I can't wait for fridays so I can watch the next episode and that's the real test to know I'm loving it so far. Next week we'll get the "why do you like me?" and hair touch scene and I'm obsessed since I saw it in the trailer, I literally can not wait to watch it

Loneliness society (ep4)

I haven’t seen anyone mention this but this is an adaptation of a Sandra Bullock movie, which I like a lot so I decided to give it a try. So far so good, the mains are nice, have chemistry and it’s entertaining so far

Step by Step (ep9)

The problem I have with this series is that I was never able to connect with Pat, maybe because he’s so openly emotional and I’m not? But I can’t, I tried but no. I’m sorry but in my eyes he’s quite self centered and self important, I don’t understand why everybody, especially Jeng (who is his boss), has to change but not Pat. Like, at the start of the series he had been working there a month, I think? I don’t hate him, at all, but I don’t understand his character, I was waiting for him to get better, to have development, and it didn’t happen.

I was starting to get bored, and then we started getting Jeng’s perspective and I fell in love, so now I’m enjoying the series and I have a character I can root for. I don’t fully understand him falling in love with Pat but I want his happy ending so I still want them to get together

3 will be free (ep7)

This is one of The Series you’re supposed to watch and everybody says is so good, and in this case I agree so far. I was not expecting such quality and to get hooked so easily, I started it two days ago and I’ll probably finish it today or tomorrow, and I’m supposed to be busy right now. I love that there’s a bisexual character and obviously the relationship between the three of them but I can’t say anything else until I know how it ends. I’m very scared it’s not going to be a happy ending and I could accept that even if I’m going to suffer, but please I don’t want any of them to regret what happened or treat it like an adventure and not a real romance. That being said, if something happens to Shin I will kill everybody in this room and then myself

Finished

Our Sky 2

I don’t feel like writing a separate review for each series but in general I’d say it was kinda underwhelming. I knew it wasn’t going to be a masterpiece but I did expect it to be a bit better, especially the Aof ones. I wish they just showed the pairs being cute in their normal lives instead of creating plots that made no sense. MSP and NLMG are the only ones I can honestly say I liked, the others had great moments but it wasn’t enough. In order of enjoyment:

My school president

Never let me go

A tale of a thousand stars

Bad Buddy

Star in my mind

The eclipse

(I haven’t watched the ABAAB and VV ones)

Past-senger

This was a wild and silly ride from start to finish (especially finish). I did enjoy it, like reading a crack fic, sometimes what I need is bad watches with no expectations. Until the end, that was way too much for me, what in the world were they thinking I’d never know. One thing I have to say is the chemistry between the main characters was quite decent

Plan to watch

Hidden agenda (july 9th)

I didn’t hate Star in my mind but it was a bit of a waste of JoongDunk’s chemistry, they had a good connection in it and it was what saved the series, but it’s nothing compared to how comfortable they are doing fanservice in real life. I need whoever is directing this to please get that and carry it to the series intact. The first trailer showed more of the plot and the second one was basically them being cute together and even if I liked it, I hope that plot points still somewhat exist in the series

Wedding Plan (july 19th)

Another Mame series, I didn’t hate Love in the air so I think this could be good. The part I was more excited about was the supposed gl pairing but they didn’t appear at all in the trailer so I’m a bit worried about that

#be my favorite #step by step #3 will be free #our skyy 2 #past-senger #lonliness society #thai bl #thai ql #thai series #thai drama #currently watching #gmmtv #step by step the series #be my favorite the series #hidden agenda #hidden agenda the series #wedding plan the series

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lenbryant · 4 months ago

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(LongPost, NYTimes) JD Vance, an Unlikely Friendship and Why It Ended

His political views differed from a transgender classmate’s, but they forged a bond that lasted a decade — until Mr. Vance seemed to pivot, politically and personally.

By Stephanie Saul

Stephanie Saul, who covers education, reviewed about 90 emails and text messages spanning between 2014 and 2017.

July 27, 2024Updated 11:29 a.m. ET

When his book, “Hillbilly Elegy,” was published in 2016, JD Vance sent an email apologizing to a close friend from his Yale Law School days. The friend identified as transgender, but Mr. Vance referred to them in the book as a lesbian.

“Hey Sofes, here’s an excerpt from my book,” Mr. Vance wrote to his friend, Sofia Nelson. “I send this to you not just to brag, but because I’m sure if you read it you’ll notice reference to ‘an extremely progressive lesbian.’”

“I recognize now that this may not accurately reflect how you think of yourself, and for that I am really sorry,” he wrote. “I hope you’re not offended, but if you are, I’m sorry! Love you, JD.”

Nelson wrote back the same day, calling Mr. Vance “buddy” and thanking him for “being sweet,” adding, “If you had written gender queer radical pragmatist, nobody would know what you mean.” Nelson asked for an autographed copy, then signed off with, “Love, Sofia.”

The emails, in which Mr. Vance criticizes former President Donald J. Trump both for “racism” and as a “morally reprehensible human being,” add to an already-existing body of evidence showing Mr. Vance’s ideological pivot from Never Trumper to Mr. Trump’s running mate.

And they reflect a young man quite different from the hard-right culture warrior of today who back then brought homemade baked goods to his friend after Nelson underwent transition-related surgery. The visit cemented their bond.

“The content of the conversation was,” Nelson said in an interview with The New York Times, “‘I don’t understand what you’re doing, but I support you.’ And that meant a lot to me at the time, because I think that was the foundation of our friendship.”

The political views of the two were sharply divergent, but their friendship would continue for a decade, strengthened by their shared Midwestern roots — Nelson grew up in Western Michigan and Mr. Vance in Ohio — and cynical views of Ivy League elitism.

Nelson, a Tufts University graduate, had received a prestigious Truman scholarship for law school, indicating a desire to work in public service.

At times, they exchanged messages infrequently. At other times, they would have energetic back-and-forths several times a week. And their talks reflected the history playing out around them — protests against police violence in Ferguson, Mo., the massacre of Black churchgoers in Charleston, S.C., and the 2016 campaign between Mr. Trump and Hillary Clinton. Their conversations were notable not only for Mr. Vance’s harsh comments about Mr. Trump, but also for the tenderness and thoughtful tone in the messages.

They provide what may be a textbook example of respectful discourse, revealing a cultural willingness by Mr. Vance to accept Nelson’s gender identity, which sharply differs from the anti-L.G.B.T.Q. sentiments evident at the Republican National Convention.

Nelson, now a public defender in Detroit, said they visited each other’s homes, talked on Zoom during the pandemic and exchanged long emails discussing a range of subjects, from the minutiae of daily life to weighty discussions of current events and public policy issues. Nelson attended Mr. Vance’s wedding in Kentucky in 2014. They pondered doing a podcast together — he suggested they call it “The Lunatic Fringe.”

But Nelson and Mr. Vance had a falling out in 2021, when Mr. Vance said publicly he supported an Arkansas ban on gender-affirming care for minors, leading to a bitter exchange that deeply hurt Nelson.

“He achieved great success and became very rich by being a Never Trumper who explained the white working class to the liberal elite,” Nelson said, referring to Mr. Vance’s successful 2016 book. “Now he’s amassing even more power by expressing the exact opposite.”

Now, Nelson, who opposes the Trump/Vance ticket, hopes the emails inform the opinion of voters about Mr. Vance.

Responding to a request for comment on the emails, Luke Schroeder, a spokesman for the Vance campaign, issued a statement:

“It’s unfortunate this individual chose to leak decade-old private conversations between friends to The New York Times. Senator Vance values his friendships with individuals across the political spectrum. He has been open about the fact that some of his views from a decade ago began to change after becoming a dad and starting a family, and he has thoroughly explained why he changed his mind on President Trump. Despite their disagreements, Senator Vance cares for Sofia and wishes Sofia the very best.”

Charting His Own Path

In 2014, they were both near the beginning of their careers, about a year out of law school.

Mr. Vance shared that he was planning to buy a house in Washington, D.C., with his wife, Usha, whom he also met at Yale.

The Vances could afford a house in Washington’s highly priced market partly because Mr. Vance was starting a job in Big Law. “Blech,” he wrote then, indicating his distaste for a career he had already decided against. He would remain with the white-shoe firm Sidley Austin for less than two years.

In the same exchange, Mr. Vance also wrote about his wife’s interviews with justices of the Supreme Court, where she was seeking a clerkship. Mr. Vance worried that her seeming politically neutral, or lack of “ideological chops,” could harm her chances.

“Scalia and Kagan moved very quickly,” Mr. Vance wrote, referring to Antonin Scalia, the conservative justice who died in 2016, and Elena Kagan, one of the court’s current three liberal justices, “but she was just not going to work out for Scalia.”

Nelson wrote back, “His homophobic screeds are hard to believe in 2014.”

“He’s become a very shrill old man,” Mr. Vance responded. “I used to really like him, and I used to believe all of his stuff about judicial minimalism was sincere. Now I see it as a political charade.”

Mrs. Vance would end up clerking for Chief Justice John G. Roberts Jr.

On Cops, Body Cams and Pride Day

Like their conversations, Mr. Vance could be surprising.

In October 2014, in the wake of the killing of Michael Brown, an 18-year-old Black man, by a white police officer in Ferguson, Nelson raised the idea of requiring that police officers wear body cameras.

“I hate the police,” Mr. Vance said in his response. “Given the number of negative experiences I’ve had in the past few years, I can’t imagine what a Black guy goes through.”

Around the same time, the written conversation turned to a much-discussed essay by Ta-Nehisi Coates in The Atlantic making the case for reparations. Mr. Vance offered that whatever problems he had with reparations, generally, “I have at least been convinced of the virtue of compensating modern victims who’ve suffered redlining or denial of federal benefits.”

By next summer, after a shooting at the Emanuel A.M.E. Church in Charleston, the two were again discussing race. Mr. Vance said he didn’t understand why people “can’t see the connection between this person murdering innocent people and the fact that the Confederate flag — by democratic will — still flies” at the South Carolina Statehouse. “I’m not sure how to wrap my head around it.” (The flag was removed from the Statehouse in Columbia a month later.)

“I think you’re my only liberal friend with whom I talk openly about politics on a deeper sense,” Mr. Vance wrote.

In June 2015, Mr. Vance also revealed to Nelson that Jeb Bush’s presidential campaign had offered him a job as senior domestic policy adviser, then reneged, after discovering a negative piece he had written about George W. Bush’s economic policies. (The New York Times reached out to several former advisers to Jeb Bush’s campaign, who could not confirm that there was a job offer.)

Mr. Vance wrote to Nelson that he was looking forward to getting together for a longer conversation with “some bourbon and puppy dogs by my side.”

In 2015, Mr. Vance moved to California for a new career in the tech industry, one he launched, he suggested, after the Bush episode.

“It’s possible to view this entire extended foray into the California tech scene as a wound-licking exercise after my brief encounter with American politics,” he wrote.

Living in the Bay Area at the time, on June 28 that year, he wished Nelson “Happy Pride,” adding, “I’m thinking of braving the crowds in S.F. just to people watch.”

After attending the Pride Day parade, he wrote, “It felt more like a frat party than I expected. But still nice to see a lot of happy people.”

Opposing Trump

By 2015, Mr. Trump’s rise had begun. Mr. Vance’s Yale friends, including Nelson, were not surprised that Mr. Vance, whom they regarded as a moderate Republican, was opposed to Mr. Trump’s candidacy.

Mr. Vance was rooting against Mr. Trump but also said he could not bring himself to vote for Mrs. Clinton. He vowed to cast his ballot for a third-party candidate.

In December 2015, in emails analyzing the campaign, he wrote that Mr. Trump’s appeal was misunderstood.

“If you look at the polling, the issue where Trump gets the most support is on the economy,” Mr. Vance wrote. “If the response of the media, and the elites of both right and left, are to just say ‘look at those dumb racists supporting Trump,’ then they’re never going to learn the most important lesson of Trump’s candidacy.”

And he said that he himself saw something in Mr. Trump.

Mr. Vance wrote that he found it exhilarating that the media and Wall Street seemed powerless against Mr. Trump, also suggesting that he partly understood the Trump appeal.

“If he would just tone down the racism, I would literally be his biggest supporter,” he wrote.

The next day, on Dec. 9, 2015, the two would again talk race, Mr. Trump and Muslims.

Nelson wrote that a Muslim friend had said that women wearing hijabs no longer felt safe doing simple things like going to the grocery store.

Mr. Vance responded, referring to Mr. Trump as a demagogue.

“I’m obviously outraged at Trump’s rhetoric, and I worry most of all about how welcome Muslim citizens feel in their own country,” he wrote. “And there have always been demagogues willing to exploit the people who believe crazy shit. What seems different to me is that the Republican Party offers nothing that’s as attractive as the demagogue.”

By 2016, he was touring the country promoting “Hillbilly Elegy,” part memoir and part commentary on the alienation of the white working class, many of whom supported Mr. Trump’s election. “To Sofia, a good friend, a fellow Midwesterner, and, despite being a Godless liberal, a great person,” he would inscribe in Nelson’s copy.

In September 2016, he shared a piece on implicit bias that he wrote for The New York Times following Mrs. Clinton’s ill-fated “basket of deplorables” comment, thanking Nelson in the email for helping inform his thinking in developing the essay.

“The more white people feel like voting for Trump, the more Black people will suffer. I really believe that,” he wrote.

Not only had Mr. Vance been critical of Mr. Trump for racism, but he also said, “I’ve been very critical of other Repubs for the L.G.B.T.Q. issue, especially Rick Perry,” referring to the former Texas governor.

In another email a month later, he called Mr. Trump a “disaster,” using a vulgarity, and added, “He’s just a bad man.”

And then, to the amazement of many Americans, Mr. Trump won.

Nelson sent Mr. Vance a copy of an article in The Onion, a satirical news site, that suggested liberals were clueless about the country they lived in.

“This is funny. Thank you!” Mr. Vance wrote back.

“My zany prediction: in 20 years H.R.C. and Paul Ryan will be part of the same party,” he continued, using an abbreviation for Mrs. Clinton. “And you and I will be on the other side.”

In January 2017, he expressed more sober concern.

“I’m deeply pessimistic right now,” he wrote. “I’ve been thinking a lot about the civil rights movement and legislation in the 1960s, and I wonder if our society is healthy enough to accomplish anything of that scale (or even close to it).”

A Political Career Beckons, and a Friendship Unravels

By 2017, Mr. Vance was planning a move back to Ohio. According to Nelson, Mitch McConnell, the Senate Republican leader, had reached out and encouraged him to run as a Republican for Senator Sherrod Brown’s seat.

He kicked the tires of a race as an anti-Trump candidate against a formidable Democratic incumbent and took a pass.

It would be four years later that he would run, this time seeking Mr. Trump’s support, and win the open Ohio seat that would put him in position to be Mr. Trump’s running mate.

Nelson communicated with the Vances over Zoom early in the pandemic, after their move back to Ohio. Their email correspondence had died down, and Nelson had noted a shift in the tone of Mr. Vance’s social media postings. In April 2021, one particularly stood out.

On Twitter, Mr. Vance had come out in support of an Arkansas measure banning gender-transitioning care for minors. The bill was ultimately adopted over a veto by Gov. Asa Hutchinson, who had declared it an overreach, before it was overturned by a court ruling.

“Do you support the AR legislation criminalizing providing medical care to trans kids?” Nelson texted him in April 2021.

“I do. I recognize this is awkward but I’ll always be honest with you,” Mr. Vance responded. “I think the trans thing with kids is so unstudied that it amounts to a form of experimentation.”

Nelson wrote back that his position “deeply saddens me.”

“I know I can’t change your mind but the political voice you have become seems so far from the man I got to know in law school,” wrote Nelson, later explaining their position “as a trans person who accessed needed health care so I could live a full life.”

“I have a 1:30,” Mr. Vance wrote. “I will always love you, but I really do think the left’s cultural progressivism is making it harder for normal people to live their lives.”

It had been a friendship of the special type forged in young adulthood, before the accumulation of life responsibilities and fateful decisions already made. Now, it was over.

Stephanie Saul reports on colleges and universities, with a recent focus on the dramatic changes in college admissions and the debate around diversity, equity and inclusion in higher education. More about Stephanie Saul

#refrigerator magnet #jd vance #trans #lgbt #lgbt+#trans rights #gender nonbinary #vote #kamala 2024 #scary clown guy #hope not hate #maga me sick #nytimes

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